


the secrets in our lives

by fleetofships



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Falling In Love, Fame, Implied Sexual Content, Long Distance Relationship, Love, Memories, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, dealing with fame, gratuitous use of the f word, slight angst, technology helps long distance relationships let me tell ya, there's a lot of cute shit on skype
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetofships/pseuds/fleetofships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <img/></p>
</div>The past nine months for Jess have been mostly normal, except for the fact that she’s kind of, sort of dating Liam Payne with 3,358 miles of space between. The thing is, relationships don't thrive in a bubble, and it’s beginning to catch up with them.<p>(A story of how two people meet, fall in love and possibly end up together, in face of fame and distance.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. uno

**Author's Note:**

> **Thank you** : To becomingshades/L for being a constant inspiration and wonderful beta. You push me every day to not write bullshit. I owe you a thousand Blimes. Hanna for every IM, the future in Miami, and wishing there was a tinhat emoji. 
> 
> **Notes** : This is my first full-length fic in a long time, and will update weekly. Probably 10 chapters. We'll see.
> 
>  **Title** : Taken from "Friends" by Ed Sheeran.
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://twooldfourthis.tumblr.com)

Jess opened the creaky door to her small apartment, and was met with the savory smell of cooking wafting through its interiors. The sound of a familiar voice hummed along to an unfamiliar pop rock song from the even tinier kitchen. She shook the rain out of her green umbrella on the welcome mat, a little perplexed. 

"Hello?" she greeted hopefully into the air, as she shrugged off a damp raincoat and hung the leather messenger bag on the hook by the door, stepping over a pair of ridiculous sneakers strewn on the floor, the laces undone. 

Liam's snapback-clad head poked out of the kitchen doorway, a big grin plastered on his handsome face. "Hellooooo." He waved with a wooden spoon in one hand and disappeared back into the kitchen. Real food, in her apartment? This had to be a dream, definitely.  An array of lit candles covered a few of the available flat surfaces, casting flickering shadows over the walls, except for the fluorescent glow from the overhead kitchen lights. Jess didn’t remember purchasing candles lately, or the colorful bunch of flowers that sat in a new vase on her coffee table. 

The weight of Jess’ work day, her shitty, rainy commute, and the leaden feeling of her thighs after climbing the stairs to her third floor walkup immediately lifted off her shoulders. She steadied herself against the couch to pull off rain boots, and chucked them in the same pile as the ridiculous sneakers. 

"Liam James, what are you doing?" She asked in a singsong, crossing the small space of the living room, trying not to bump into the coffee table, or trip over Liam’s laptop charger. He’d only been there for all of eighteen hours and already he’d made himself at home.

His head emerged from the doorway again. "Cooking? You're so clever, sometimes, Jessica,” he replied, still all grins, arching an eyebrow in mock-tease.

"Fuck off, Payne. You wanted to go out tonight, remember? Plus, I’ve never seen you operate anything in my kitchen beyond a microwave,"  Jess countered, meeting Liam at the doorway. “So unless you’re making a dinner of Hot Pockets, color me surprised.”

Jess almost took his free hand to just feel it; to make sure that Liam was still real and not some hunger-induced hallucination, but it was covered in one of her ratty oven mitts. She tugged on his shirt hem, instead, cold fingertips brushing the soft skin of his hip.

"I'm just full of surprises, Jess. I know I said dinner out, but it's nasty out there, innit?" Liam poked the tip of her nose with the oven mitt. Jess agreed with a half-shrug, then conceded a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, barely tiptoeing. At once, Liam closed the space between them, pulling Jess to him, strong arms wrapping around her waist, deepening the kiss. 

Any dampness from the rain was forgotten, replaced by a flush that swept over her arms up to the tips of her ears. It was easy to kiss him, their mouths open and warm, Liam tasting of tobacco and mint. Her hands rested on his muscular shoulders, trying not to grip at all, and his clingy blue tee was soft underneath her hands.  Jess sighed a little against Liam’s lips, as he drew her the few feet into the smallest kitchen in the universe. 

It was easy to get used to that. The kissing and the sighing.

Liam pulled away, chuckling slightly, causing Jess to almost whine at the loss of contact. He tucked a strand of her damp, brown hair behind her ear, and brushed his lips against her forehead. 

Jess gained a little composure after a deep breath. This was real. _He_ was real. Sometimes, she forgot that he was, instead of a mixture of pixels and light on a screen.

“Color me impressed, Li,” she intoned, now poking him on the nose. 

He shrugged and smirked in that lopsided, earnest way that made her simultaneously blush and want to rip all his clothes off.

"It's just roast chicken, some potatoes and veg. Called me mum and asked her for some tips, like. And a shopping list... And I YouTubed some things..." He made a sweeping gesture across the crowded countertop. Liam never did any romantic gesture half-assed, and Jess smiled at his lilting accent, the Wolverhampton in him coming out a little from behind the polish. An unfamiliar anxiousness lingered behind his words, like there was something else he wanted to say.

Jess touched his arm to shake him out of it. "It's awesome. What can I do to help?"

He let out something resembling a breath of relief. “I reckon you can open the wine, babe!" Liam gestured to the dark bottle of red next to the sink, along with two glasses. He smacked an exaggerated wet kiss on the crown of her head before checking on the green beans sautéing (or were they slightly smoking?) on the small range.

Jess rifled through one of her mostly-empty kitchen drawers, and found the opener. As she fiddled with the wrapper on the wine, she realized the apartment didn't have wine glasses before today. Liam was to blame, as always.

He started humming again, over the sizzle of the green beans. Jess shut her eyes, and listened, oddly content with how normal this felt.

There was no pressure, no labels, and maybe two run ins with the paparazzi, much to her surprise. Liam made his way to New York every few months writing and promoting and whatever else pop stars did in New York. For the last nine months, he also found himself in the tiny Harlem apartment Jess rented for nearly too much money, every time. It confused her at first, as there was usually a perfect and bigger-than-her-whole-damn-place suite at some hotel downtown. But then she enjoyed Liam on her couch, bed, shower, kitchen, or whatever space he happened to occupy.  Even if he wailed along to Drake too loudly on his laptop, smoked too many cigarettes on her fire escape, or tried his hardest to make her late for work for the third day in a row. That even worked once or twice.

Harry brought it up a single time, backstage after a soundcheck in Philly, a few months into whatever this was.  Liam and Niall disappeared somewhere with a football in tow, but not before Liam pressed his lips against her temple and whispered something indecent in her ear. She shoved him in the shoulder, mortified and blushing, and Niall’s bright guffaw echoed through the backstage hallway.

“So, Ms. Lopez: you and Liam?” Harry caught Jess off guard, picking at a slice of cold pizza she found on a catering table. She jumped a little, then relaxed as Harry slouched into a chair next to her.

“It’s nothing official, Mr. Styles,” Jess replied, coolly, speaking a half-truth. They were _officially_  trying to figure it out. "Just friends."

“Oh? He’s never at the hotel after a gig in New York. You’re here right now,” Harry said. “And he won’t shut up about you.” He shot her a knowing look. 

“Even if I had an answer, Haz, I don’t think I’d even tell you,“ she teased, pointing a finger at Harry Fucking Styles. She chewed the pizza crust, and Harry didn’t ask any more questions after that.

Instead, he leaned over and whispered: “He seems happy lately. Good job.”

It stuck with her.

++

Liam wasn’t usually nervous about things. Stage fright left him at an early age thanks to a persistent father, and by now, he’d performed his heart out in front of about a million people, over and over again. He was bloody famous, after all. Most of his life centered in the spotlight.

But he was fucking nervous tonight. And it wasn’t the dinner, which looked decent, given his distinct lack of cooking experience (he was really good at ordering takeaway, and heating burritos in the microwave.) But, the chicken and rest of it turned out rather good, actually, and Liam made a mental note to call his mum back later and thank her profusely for the tips.

Everything pressed on him from all sides: the upcoming tour, the time apart for the third time, the hiding from the world (even though he loved it in between her soft sheets, forehead against the nape of her neck). 

Zayn texted him as he boarded the plane at Heathrow.

_nyc again -- what’s even up with you two?_

And Liam didn’t even know how to come up with a proper response. 

_i’ve got plans._

He shut off his mobile after that. He had fucking plans.

Liam almost confessed what this whole thing -- the chicken, the candles, the flowers -- was really about the second Jess walked through the door, clearly in awe at his skill for romantic ambiance. But, she distracted him with a kiss, and he continued on with the green beans.

Jess cleared the regular mishmash of things that collected on coffee tables, and they ate while plopped on the couch, because her flat didn’t have room for a dining room table. 

He teased her about it once over Skype, while in a hotel room in Milan. “It’s just me, anyway,” she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. “Why get a table when I eat dinner in front of my TV or laptop while I’m talking to you, anyway?”

Liam calmed himself by stealing bites off Jess’ plate, and she retaliated by flinging his hat across the room. Her laughter, always so teasing, loud and throaty, eased his nerves. The wine didn’t hurt, either.

After taking her last sip of wine, Jess caught him staring at her, biting the side of his lip for a brief moment. "What?" She raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

Liam placed his own wine glass on the scuffed coffee table, crowded with empty plates and silverware, and cleared his throat. 

Now or never. “Can we talk?” 

++

The life Jess led before Liam Payne entered her life was pretty fucking normal. She partied with friends. Watched movies. Kissed men who wore tight pants. Slept with some of them. Stood in the back of shitty DIY spaces and official venues, listening to as many bands as she could, with a Pabst Blue Ribbon in her hand.  She paid her bills, mostly on time. She stole her best friend's HBO Go password. 

A lot of this stuff still happened after Liam, too, but it was hard to feel normal when she kind of, sort of, dated a pop star long distance. 

Jess and Liam met at a fancy record label party. It was work on her part; another genuine attempt to impress her boss. Armed with a walkie-talkie, headset and a clipboard, Jess was relegated to checking in VIP guests in the front lobby of some Meatpacking District night club. Not that she particularly minded; it was more exciting than her regular weekday schedule of the gym-dinner-watch- _My-Cat-From-Hell_ -on-Netflix.  

Jessica Lopez: twenty-five years old, and clearly a winner.

An important-looking handler-type in a blazer came up to the table, telling Jess that she was here checking in Liam Payne and Harry Styles from One Direction.  As Jess flipped through the list, she briefly looked up to see Liam and Harry milling in the lobby with a small entourage of security and friends. 

She checked off their names and their subsequent “plus 3”s off the list, and handed the bunch fancy gift bags that probably included a Marc Jacobs bag that cost more than her rent, or fancy lip balm, or a tiger cub. She hadn’t allowed herself to peek, even if the gift could possibly be a tiger cub. She bet everyone at the party had the space for a new feline friend, whereas she barely had room for a couch. 

"Thanks," Liam whispered to her as the crew walked by, cheerfully. Her brain registered him as "boy next door hot, like that neighbor who went to college and came back after freshman year rife with muscles, better wardrobe, and a lack of virginity.” Then subsequently, "not a chance in hell, Lopez." 

She gave a feeble thumbs up, not being able to form a single word back fast enough, her eyes following the angles of him.  Liam winked back as he slipped behind the curtain into the party. Jess pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed in slight embarrassment. 

"Liam Payne and Harry Styles and their million friends are coming in now," Jess breathed into her headset. She received confirmation from Taylor, her co-worker, stationed inside the party. 

Then, another crackle over the line: "Why aren't Harry Styles and I fucking right now?"

"Taylor…There are like 10 people on this channel." Taylor could be such a slutty moron, but that’s one of the reasons she liked him.

He continued, unfazed. "Or Liam. Pretty much any one of those Direction boys could take me home for the night. More like One Erection?”

A chorus of other voices groaned into her ear.

An hour or so later, Jess leaned against the brick alley wall behind the club, taking a break from the party atmosphere inside. Music thumped through the side door, the vibrations a low bass note in the background. Taylor was inside, probably trying his hardest to touch Harry Styles, or at least Instagram a picture of his ass. 

She was casually checking tweets on her phone, as the black door slammed open, and Jess was startled out of her reverie. She turned and was met face to face with Liam Payne, all perfect coif, cool leather jacket, expensive sneakers and dark skinny jeans.

"Oh, I'm sorry love.” He took a step back, and gestured with a lighter. "Didn't mean to frighten you." A beat. "Do you mind if I smoke? Just need a quiet place." The paparazzi milled in the front, and apparently hadn’t found the tiny back alley. 

Her brain scrambled to find the proper neurons to fire in the face of unexpected pop star hotness, and then managed to find her voice after a few seconds. "Nope, have at it.” 

“Great,” he answered, relieved.  Liam pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it quickly.  Jess watched him intently for a few seconds, as he inhaled and exhaled, the upturned lapels of his leather jacket a silhouette in the dim alley light.

Things Jess knew about One Direction: insanely popular with the tweenage set, the label liked to tout them at every second, they were all richer than the Queen for it, and that Taylor wanted to sleep with Harry. 

Addendum: Liam Payne was unexpectedly and almost inconsiderately attractive, casually channeling David Beckham.

"I'm Jess, by the way.” She watched him exhale again through the side of his plush lips. "Liam, right?"  Jess felt nervous, which made her want to chatter idly, which sometimes worked to Jess’ advantage at work parties. Or dates. Or talking to hot celebrity types.

"Yeah. Pleasure, Jess. Nice to meet you.” They briefly shook hands, their eyes meeting. A small shiver worked its way up her spine.

“Do you work for the club?" His eyes swept from her headset, and over her all black, stagehand-esque attire. At least she looked like a _cute_ stagehand. 

“Nah. I work for Columbia. Barely above low level bullshit in A and R, and trying to make my way up. As you can tell by my clipboard, earlier, and this amazing walkie headset thing.”  

He laughed softly, exhaling smoke. A companionable silence mingled for a few minutes, as Liam smoked and she leaned against the brick, eyes closed and feeling the rhythm of the music thump through the wall. Her heart thumped along in her chest, its beat loud in her ears. 

"Is being in One Direction just the craziest fucking thing in the world?" Jess asked out of nowhere, honestly curious.

Liam tilted his head at her for a second, like he wasn’t sure to make of the question. He nodded briefly as he stamped his cigarette butt with his sneaker sole.  His hands searched his pockets, fishing out a pack of cigarettes. "It's pretty intense. I love it, though." 

"Adoring fans, millions of records sold. Why wouldn't you?"

He shrugged casually. "Also, posh parties. With fun gift bags." 

"If only us plebes could get gift bags, too. I can't even get a drink."

"I reckon one day you'll actually attend, rather than work it." 

"The dream of free drinks doesn't live in New York for people like me, Liam Payne.” He chuckled, rubbing the scruff of his chin, and Jess felt the heat rising in her cheeks.

Their conversation was cut short as the alarm on Jess' phone beeped.  "Yikes, break time's over. It was nice, um, talking with you."

"You too, Jess," he said, with a wink.

She struggled a little with her headset, and headed back toward the door. Liam opened it for her, surprisingly. Jess said a quick thank you as she stepped inside. He shot back a feeble thumbs up, mirroring her earlier one, the same smirk playing on his lips. Jess smiled to herself.

++

The party wound down and Jess and Taylor huddled over an iPad making sure the logistics were in order for everyone’s departures.

“So Pharrell wants to leave ASAP? I think we can get him into the first SUV after One Direction and push back another artist 5 min,” she strategized. Taylor nodded, and pushed his oversized glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Jess was about to press a button to walkie a car when someone tapped her shoulder.  "Jess?"

She spun and was met once again with Liam Payne.

"Hi. I'm nervous as fuck, but Harry kind of egged me on and I can't stand to see him right about anything." Liam said all of this a little too quickly. He sheepishly bit the side of his lip, which Jess marked as too-god-damned-cute, and continued. "Don't be freaked out, but since you couldn't have a drink tonight, can I take you out for one after this? Or tomorrow?"

_Say something, stupid._

Taylor kept looking between them, slightly bewildered. 

"I can't tonight but I can after work tomorrow. I'm usually out by 5:30." The words tumbled out of her mouth in a stunning burst of fast confidence, her heartbeat racing in her veins.  Over Liam's shoulder, she noticed Harry Styles a few feet away, trying his hardest to suppress a laugh through a fist, his curly hair shaking. Harry shot her a pointed eyebrow raise, mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, wow, great!" Liam's voice snapped her back into focus, and he slipped Jess a folded-up napkin. "This is my US mobile number. Also my hotel. Send me a text whenever.” There was something like nervousness behind his words and earnest smile.

Their thumbs brushed between the thin paper, and she felt it ripple through her, like a bolt of lightning down her spine. 

"Oh... okay.” Jess managed a small, quiet laugh. She hoped her voice didn’t sound as wavering as it felt.  "I'll text you."

He was pulled away by a security guard by the elbow, but not before he waved and shot her a wink. Harry elbowed Liam in the ribs, and the rest of their party left the lobby, and into a large, blacked window SUV to the flashbulbs of paparazzi. 

Jess turned back to Taylor, and put her hands up, confused. 

“Did that just fucking happen?" Taylor asked, hand on his heart in shock.

“Liam Payne wants to buy me a drink.” She paused, wringing her hands to shake the electric feeling coursing through her.  “Is he even legal in ‘Murica?"

"He just turned 22, like, a month ago," Taylor stated. Of course Taylor knew; he could probably write the textbook on pop stars. 

"Do you think he was screwing with me? That Styles kid was laughing, and they're both way too hot."

"Check the napkin,” Taylor said. Jess didn't realize she still clutched the napkin, and hastily unfolded it. In a messy scrawl was a phone number and a room number at the Gansevoort under the name Alfred Pennyworth.

"Certainly seems legit.”

"Oh my god!” Taylor’s eyes widened.  “Jess, are you going to fuck someone in One Direction?"

"Taylor, shut up. Let’s back to Pharrell.” 

For the rest of the evening, Jess tried to ignore the napkin burning a hole in her jeans pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how the date will go.


	2. dos

The next day, Jess tacked the wrinkled napkin to the tiny cork board next to her desk, and told herself not to think about any of it for a bit. 

Jess sat in a meeting about an upcoming college music festival, and feigned interest as the team divvied out the different shows to cover, and specific bands to reach out to after their sets.

Afterwards, she reviewed a CD from some pop punk band on an indie label, and scribbled some notes at the request of her boss. _Generic bullshit, 5 seconds of summer already exists, and they're also bad._ She wisely decided to edit that note out of her report, and then poked the napkin that mocked her with its black ink. The napkin seemed to occupy a constant space in her peripheral vision, fluttering slightly in no discernible breeze. Maybe it was her mind playing tricks, because she tried really damn hard to ignore the thing.

There were so many arbitrary rules about guys, boys, sex, OkCupid, Tinder... Did they all go out the window when one of those guys was a 22 year old bajillionaire, attractive pop star? Was there something she could Google? 

Google: should you text Liam Payne when he gives you his supposed phone number?

(Zero results.)

Jess pulled the napkin off her corkboard, the tack tearing a jagged line through the top, and studied it until she unknowingly memorized the numbers.  

She thumbed a message on her phone. _Hi_ , almost hit send, then deleted it. _Are you real?_ Nope. _You must be fucking with me._ Erased. Ugh.

An IM from Taylor popped up on her computer screen: _pregnant yet?_

Jess replied with one word: _cunt._

Taylor guffawed outright from a few cubicles over. 

Jess stepped outside the office during her lunch break, and while deciding on what overpriced meal to buy, she also decided to get it over with and text Liam. She was an adult, damn it, who shouldn’t feel surprised or flattered that a hot pop star looked in her direction. Damn right, she was great!  

Female empowerment aside, Taylor would get off her back. And, if this whole thing was a joke, at least she’d have a good story to pull out. _Hey, did you know I met Liam Payne from One Direction at an industry party, and he gave me a fake number? What a jackoff!_  It’d be a great ice breaker.

Taking calming breath in line at some Japanese takeout place, Jess tapped in his number from memory. He was just another dude, right? 

No.  
Big.  
Deal.

_Hi it's jess from last night. I'm off at 6, still up for that drink?_

It was funny how two sentences could cause her so much anguish. 

In the middle of setting the world record of slowest attempt at eating a beef and veggie rice bowl on a bench in a corporate plaza, the phone buzzed with his number on the screen. 

_\-- HI. yes glad you texted! Doing some press bs till 5. 6:30 sounds wicked. Do u know where the high dive is? I’ll meet u there._

She Googled it. East Village. Familiar. 

_\-- Yes, that'd be great. See you there. Note: wearing work clothes. Business casual all the way. You’re just gonna have to deal with it._

_\-- I bet ur still cute. see ya._

Jess breathed out for the first time in twenty minutes, and laughed at herself. She texted Taylor.

_\-- God. I think I need a Xanax._

+++

Liam smiled — a little self-satisfied, sure — at his mobile, then shoved it into his pocket. 

“Hey Harry,” he said, leaning back in the chair he’d been sitting in for ages, answering every question imaginable for the last eight hours, “you owe me at least ten dollars, and you have to get me one of those hot dogs from the cart across the street.”

Harry rolled his eyes and threw him the bird from the other side of the room.

Liam loved Harry, but he also loved proving Harry wrong. Liam could still chat up girls — no, _women._

The hot dog from across the street tasted great, and as he ate it, Liam sent a little wish to no one in particular that the night would go just as well. 

+++ 

On the subway ride over, Jess nervously checked her hair, reapplied lipgloss, smoothed the collar of her blazer down, and glanced at her phone clock a million times. It’d been a while since her last date. That was a third date, in fact: dinner and a brainless action movie with a guy named Ben. The thing with Ben fizzled out after, the both of them too busy and mostly incompatible to text, let alone call, each other back. 

As she climbed the stairs out of the Astor Place station, she felt the familiar buzz of her phone in her pocket.

6:25: 2 messages.

6:10pm Taylor: _omg ! let me know how it is and good luck and ask him for harry’s number ok love uuuu xoxo_

6:20pm Liam: _hiiii i’m here, in a booth by the jukebox._

Liam Payne wasn’t only on time, he was _early._ One point to Gryffindor.

High Dive was one of those perfectly New York dimly lit dive bars redolent of cheap beer, full of sticky booths and shitty pub food that only sounded good when she was 3 beers in, but tasted amazing regardless. Jess came there once or twice during college, and promptly forgot about it until Liam. 

The din of the place was slightly overwhelming on a Friday night, full of college students with fake IDs and people her age looking for a cheapish and laidback respite after work. She pushed through the crowd, a mixture of anxiety and excitement fueling her every step. 

She found Liam huddled in a corner booth by the jukebox, his face illuminated by the glow of the phone in one hand, the other gripping a pint of beer.  

Jess inhaled, counting backwards from 5, _God._

"Hi," she greeted, a little loudly.  It was quieter over here, but not by much, and Liam’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. She wasn’t prepared for the eager, eye-crinkling grin that followed, like a god damned _puppy._ It almost hurt to look at. 

Actually, she was _not_ ready for Liam at all, handsome and broad-shouldered, sporting a red plaid flannel shirt and a stupid, stupid flat brimmed baseball cap. 

She looked like shit in comparison.

“Jess! Hi!” Liam beamed, with a bit of nervous energy, starting to climb out of the booth to greet her. 

“No, no, don’t get up,” she replied quickly, chuckling a little, waving her hands in front of her chest. “I’ll just sit down.” 

Liam sat back down, scooted a over a little, and gestured to the space beside him. She slid in, feeling the vinyl squeak uncomfortably under her jeans, acutely aware of how close they were.

"Thanks for waiting. I didn't expect you to be here early.” Feeling awkward, like her hands should be doing something, she grabbed the plastic beer menu, running her fingers over the options instead of blatantly gawking.

"I'm a punctual fellow, love,” he replied, leaning back into the booth a bit. He exhaled slowly. “So, can I get you that drink then?”

“Sam Adams--”

“Be right back then, Jess.” He was quickly out of the booth before she could finish answering, another figure cutting through the crowd. Five minutes later, he emerged from the bar somehow precariously holding three full beer glasses in his hands. 

“This is so I don’t have to stand in that crowd anymore!” Liam explained, loudly over the bass of the music blaring from the jukebox. A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. 

“What are you, some kind of beer wizard?” Jess asked, impressed, as Liam slid her a beer. He chortled, shaking his head. _Two_ points to Gryffindor.

“I wish! I had to flail my arms like an arsehole to get the bartender’s attention, just like everyone else. No wizardry needed. Cheers,” he said, lifted his glass to hers, clinked and took a sip. 

“You look great, by the way,” he added out of nowhere.  It took every ounce of strength not to spit out her drink in disbelief. 

“Thanks. You too.” 

Well, he definitely wasn't an asshole. Or he maybe was, except in nice guy clothing. 

“Bro, do you even like the Boston Red Sox?” She flicked the flat rim of his cap.  “Or do you just like being contrary?” 

“Where’s Boston again?” He fired back, shrugging in jest. 

They both laughed, climbing out of the awkwardness of a first date and into the slow business of getting to know each other.  

He started by asking her a ton of questions: where she went to “uni” (NYU, music business), if she had any siblings (just one, an older brother), where she grew up (Encino, outside of Los Angeles). She volleyed questions back at him: why the band was in New York (press for their newest album, songwriting slash recording), where he grew up (some place called Wolverhampton, outside of Birmingham), if he liked New York (one of his favorite places, except he liked LA better, which caused them to debate for a few minutes). 

The bar filled up around their booth, the noise of the crowd and jukebox forcing them to close the small distance between them.

“Can you just hang out like this in bars? Aren’t you in the most famous boy band in the world?” she asked, looking around. Everyone in High Dive was preoccupied with the task of getting shit hammered, and not concerned that Liam Payne was among them.

“Nah,” he said, finishing his beer, and starting on the next. He took a slow, measured sip. “I can get away with quite a bit in the States when I’m by meself. To be fair, does this look like the type of place _anyone_ expects me to be?” He had a point.

They discussed One Direction, and the trajectory of his life from X Factor to right then. It must have been oddly comforting to have an entire life planned out in advance, but at the same time, limiting.  Jess had plans, of course, but not any that needed a manager, and she could change them on a whim. Liam had tours and international data plans, rehearsals and vocal lessons, scheduled downtime and private jets. 

“I’m impressed you’ve been doing this since you were sixteen,” Jess said, rolling the empty glass back and forth between her hands. “Do you know what I was doing when I was that age?” 

“What?” Liam sounded amused.

“Smoked a lot of pot while listening to punk records,” she confessed. “I was _really_ insufferable.” 

He roared with laughter, touching his shoulder to hers. 

"I couldn’t live my life in the public eye," Jess said, after a few seconds. “It seems so stressful. Normal people worry everyday about how they’re perceived, but that’s like a whole other layer of pressure.”

He nodded. “I’ve learned not to take it too seriously. Even on the days where I wake up feeling out of sorts, or it’s almost too much, I remember how lucky I am that I get to do what I love, with four other great lads. I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Liam replied. He looked so god damned genuine, that she couldn’t even make fun of him if she wanted to.

“What about the rumor mill and the media? Does it ever get tiresome?” 

Liam half-shrugged. “So, there are tabloid rumors and paps outside my flat? Fuck it. I know who I am, and so do my mates and family.” He leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. “ _That’s_ what matters, Jess.” 

He playfully tapped her cheekbone with his index finger, and a small snicker escaped her mouth. 

“You’re kinda cute when you talk about your career, Payne." Jess realized how near he was right then. Even in the dim, orangey light, his face shadowed by the flat brim of his cap, every freckle and mole on his face showed in stark relief. She swallowed thickly and reached for her beer. 

“Tell me about your work,” Liam said, leaning in close again, their clothed knees touching under the table. Somehow, his hand had made its way to her arm. It was like every nerve ending had concentrated itself to that inch of skin, a million cells firing at once. 

She took a gulp of beer, trying to find words as Liam’s hand rested in the crook of her elbow. “I’m a small cog in a big machine that makes people famous. I listen to a lot of bad music and schedule a lot of meetings and write a lot of analytic reports. Otherwise, it’s teenage me’s fantasy… watching a bunch of concerts and getting lost in live music.”

“You help make the dream come true for people like me, right?” Her brain ignored how cheesy that sounded, because he squeezed her arm gently, as if to reassure her. He trailed his hand down her arm, across the bones in her wrist, sliding over her open palm, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief second, feeling him take her hand for an even briefer moment.

His mischievous lips curled into a smirk as his hand came to rest on her knee. Well, this was going well. 

They kept pace with each other at every beat — laughing, flirting, talking about music— through two more beers each. Somehow she managed to order two whiskey shots at the bar, as he went out to smoke a cigarette. They both winced as they downed them, then high fived. Liam wiggled his hips a bit.

She wondered, her eyesight a little fuzzy, what it might feel like to kiss him, to move his big hand other places than her knee or elbow or wrist, to brush her lips against the birthmark on his throat. Their conversation meandered comfortably, like a slow, curving river, and right then, they were talking about cake for no reason.

“You’ve never had funfetti cake? Like, from a box?” Jess felt incredulous, her speech slightly slurred. England was _weird_ , and she tipped her head back and laughed. 

“To be fair, we just mix in our own sugar strands. We don’t need a fucking box.” He hit his fist lightly on the table, and furrowed his brow in mock-seriousness.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s an American _tradition._ ” Her limbs felt pleasantly loose, because of the _whiskey, yes, the whiskey, not Liam._ One of her hands splayed on the nape of his neck, the thumb slipped underneath his collar to feel warm skin. “I could make you an amazing funfetti cake sometime, Liam. With the mix and eggs and pudding. It would be _the best and you would not be able to handle it._ ” She punctuated this with a jab of her finger on his collarbone, and she pretended not to notice the pulse in his neck quicken. 

Then, his hand cupped her cheek and all the warmth in the room flooded right into his palm. He simply asked to kiss her, whispered he couldn’t stand it any longer, or he might explode. She paused, tilted her head slightly, and studied the tipsy look of him, especially his full bottom lip. 

She nodded, and Liam’s mouth met hers, a little cautious.  It wasn’t really extraordinary -just another kiss in a booth in another loud bar in New York City on another Friday night-  but her heart skipped a few beats at the warmth and fullness of it, enveloping her like a blanket. She'd kissed plenty of boys, and maybe even a few men, but none of them felt like the world hushed. 

“I like you,” he whispered, deep set eyes closed. 

“I hope so.”

It all came crashing down after that, all tongues and breathy giggles. The feeling of his stubble against her neck and his large, needy hands. The clean and crisp boy smell of him. The sound of the room disappeared and spun around them like a vacuum, and she couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours until they broke apart. 

"This is going to sound forward, but I think I need you to come home with me, Liam,” Jess said into his ear, finally. Liam had pulled her onto his lap, the edge of the table digging into her back. His hat had also somehow made it onto her head, backwards. 

She didn’t know if it was the drink, or the way his hands were cautious like he hadn’t touched anyone in ages, or just… shit. Maybe she liked this boy, too. Maybe she did. 

Also, now that they’d come up for air, it occurred to her that this booth was very much in a public place, and maybe intensely dry-humping someone stupidly famous in said booth wasn’t exactly discreet or tasteful.

Not that she _wanted_ to be tasteful at that juncture.

He chortled, his dark eyes a mixture of want and surprise, his fingers carding through her hair. "Are you trying to impugn my virtue on the first date, Jessica?" He tugged at her hair a little, making her bite her lip in response.  

"I can stop," she replied, slowly beginning to remove herself from his lap. 

“Erm, I didn’t mean it that way.” He pulled her back, one of his large hands steadying her hip against him. He extricated his hat from her head, placing it back on his own, and nodded slowly.  "We've been snogging for about 45 minutes in this cramped booth, and if you grind against my hips any longer, love, I'll probably make a mess of my pants." 

That's all the prompting she needed to guide him out of the booth by his hand, through the crowded bar, and outside, where she hailed a cab with a half-drunk efficiency. Their lips crashed together in the back of that cab as the city lights blurred by them, their hands hungrily exploring the skin underneath their clothes.

Jess couldn’t explain how they made it up the three flights of stairs, or how she managed to unlock her front door in the whirlwind. Their clothes ended up all over her couch, and his ridiculous sneakers in the hallway. Liam picked her up with a surprising ease and, her legs wrapped around him, carried her through the open door of the bedroom. He didn’t miss a step. They fell backwards onto the soft sheets, and... _oh._

It was good. Parts were even great. Like his mouth and the cut of his hip bones and that birthmark on his throat and the explosive feeling of him that unraveled her from head to toe.

Jess rested her head against his chest, feeling sweat cool on her skin as she came down from the endorphins. 

Liam asked to stay the night after the third or fourth go around, and she murmured, exhausted, _yes, I think that’ll be okay._ She didn’t remember falling asleep. 

+++

Liam woke up slowly, not knowing where he was.

That wasn’t exactly out of the norm. The demands of the last few years made big hotel rooms and strange beds more comfortable than his own real homes both in London and Wolverhampton.

 _This isn’t a hotel room_ , he realized, his brain coming back into full function after a deep yawn.

No, this was someone’s bedroom.  _Jess’ bedroom._

The morning light filtered through her white, gauzy curtains, throwing pools of light onto her grey walls. And she lied fast asleep, curled next to him like a comma, the waves of her dark hair spilling onto his chest. The rest of her hid underneath the sheets, her tan skin disappearing into the white tufted duvet.

Now, _that_ was out of the norm.

He stayed there for a few minutes, gathering his wits and listening to the sound of the world waking up outside. Doors opened. Traffic began.

Liam didn’t know what time it was, exactly. Early. Probably before nine am. He always woke up before everyone else, no matter how hard he’d partied the night before, no matter how jetlagged. His body just wanted him to be up and up and up. He constantly felt jealous of Zayn and Harry, and how they stayed dead to the world until literally slapped awake.

He yawned, and his head throbbed a little, the beginning of a hangover. He still smiled in spite of it, happy with the previous evening’s circumstances. 

Jess didn’t stir as he sat up in her small bed, and swung his bare legs over the side. He stretched, toes curling, and glanced around, taking her room in. 

A keyboard laid diagonally in the corner. Different concert posters and flyers lived on her walls, some framed, showcasing bands he’d never heard. A couple pairs of trainers and shoes spilled out of her tiny closet, into a small pile of random clothes. The clock on her nightstand blinked 8:04A. He stopped an impulse to get up and touch everything in her room. To flip through every book, read every ticket stub on her corkboard, an act of furtive, tactile intimacy. 

Jess was leagues cooler than him without even trying. He wanted to discover how cool, exactly. Maybe stick around and learn all about her beyond the physical, even though the physical was good. Great, even. Like, he forgot sex could be that satisfying and fun.

He realized he was shite at one night stands. Liam sighed, groggy and headachey, and realized he had to get back to the hotel by nine thirty.

He searched, and found his pants at the foot of the bed. He grabbed his phone  --hanging on at 10% battery-- off her nightstand. 

There was a text message from Niall: _how’s it going mate ?! it’s like 2am… ;)_

Liam just smiled again, as he pulled on his jeans. He’d tell Niall just enough later. Harry would probably ask too, the nosey bugger. They’d all ask, because they all cared, were as close to him as brothers, and he didn’t begrudge them.

It wasn’t hard to find her bathroom through a door off her hallway, not even bigger than his own closet. He took a quick piss, splashed water on his face, and rinsed out the sour morning taste in his mouth. 

He padded out into her living room again, grabbing his shirt off the couch.

“Hey.” Liam turned at the sound of her semi-sleepy voice. Jess stood in the bedroom doorway, hip against the frame, clad in tanktop and a pair of pajama shorts. He hadn't heard her get up.  

“Hi,” he replied, his voice gravelly and a little sheepish, pulling his t-shirt over his head. God, she was lovely in the morning, and she didn’t have to do anything but stand there.

And she did, arms crossed and head tilted, the pink line of her mouth flat, and so, so pretty.

He probably looked like shit. 

“Leaving?” 

“Not yet,” he replied, truthfully, picking up his plaid flannel shirt.  He almost had to glance away from her to talk. “Sorry. I really didn’t want to wake you up. I can’t sleep past eight o’clock, normally.”

“Don’t apologize. I wake up early, too.” Jess didn’t move from the doorway, and instead, she watched him shrug on the rest of his clothes,  the tension in the air winding around them

“Last night was really good, Liam,” she stated, breaking the silence, and the tension sparked out of the air. The sound of his name out of her lips almost made him jump over the couch and kiss her, right there, ask to stay, _fuck his obligations._

He ignored that urge, but he wanted to so badly, his fingers twitched involuntarily. 

“Yes, yes it was, Jess.” He ran a hand nervously through his messy hair, and laughed a little. “Look, d’ya want a quick breakfast or anything? I have a recording session at ten, but I’d love to take you out.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. I wanted to go for a run, and I have errands to do.” She hugged herself a little tighter. He felt muddled, rubbing the back of his neck, not knowing what to do, a hangover pulsing at the base of his skull.

“I want to see you again.” The words just fell out of his mouth quicker than he expected. 

Her eyebrows quirked up in surprise for a moment, and the neutral expression she wore a moment ago melted into a small, private smile. “You have my number. You can use it.”

He couldn’t tell if that was a positive or negative, and that’s all she said on the matter. 

Jess crossed the narrow space between them, and tiptoed a kiss onto the corner of his mouth, her soft hand on his cheek. He braced himself against the back of the couch, as she pulled away, feeling that bit of skin cool in comparison to the rest. 

She helped Liam find his socks, and gathered up his sneakers. She told him again to text her, and asked if he knew how to get back downtown. It wasn’t exactly kicking him out, but he just sensed that she needed him to go. 

“I’ll just call an Uber,” he told her, dipping down to kiss her quickly, taking her —and him, too— by slight surprise. “I promise, I’ll text you.” 

She looked amused, and flicked his hat brim, a low laugh escaping her mouth. Maybe at him. He didn’t care, and he wanted to hear that laugh again. 

His car raced down the Westside Highway, and Liam leaned his head against the window. The driver didn’t seem to recognize Liam, but gave him a smug nod when he came for the pickup. He was sure the driver at least recognized the signs of a good Friday night and an early Saturday morning pickup.  

Liam grinned, and replied to Niall. 

_\-- good mate. she’s wicked. on my way back. battery almost dead._

Niall replied with just an exclamation point. Despite the stronger pounding in his head, he couldn't stop grinning, watching the city blur by him. 9:09 AM. 

There was no one outside of the hotel yet, but Liam had the driver pull around the back, just in case. He was never really papped in New York, unless he was with the others, but he didn’t want to take a chance. Especially wearing last night’s clothes, the feeling of her nestled in the fabric. 

About twenty minutes later, Liam smoked a well-needed cigarette on Harry’s suite balcony, freshly showered and phone charging. 9:42 AM. The rest of the lads mucked about in the room, waiting for Kim to whisk them away downstairs and into a car headed to small recording studio.

Niall sidled up next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Liam Payne, ladies man, eh?” Niall brought up a fist, and Liam met it with a bump. He knew better to leave Niall Horan hanging.

Niall wrapped a friendly arm around Liam's shoulders, a huge grin on his face.  “Are you gonna see-- what’s her name again?”

“Jessica. Jess,” Liam replied, coolly, and Niall cheerfully patted him on the back. 

“Yeah, _are_ you going to see Jess again?” Harry chimed in, walking barefoot onto the narrow balcony, sipping on a mug of tea.

“Why’s everyone so concerned, hm?”  Liam asked, and shrugged. He finished the last drags of his cigarette and stamped it into the ashtray. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her --the vanilla smell of her skin, the cute corners of her mouth, especially-- all morning.  

“You want to hang out with her again, mate,” Niall intoned. “You’re smiling the dumb Payno smile.” Niall pinched his cheek, and gave him a sloppy kiss right on the mark. Liam groaned, and shoved him off, and Niall just cackled.  Irish git.

“I do want to see her again,” Liam confessed, turning to lean his elbows against the railing. He knew better to lie. In fact, it always felt better to tell the truth. In this case especially since it was all Harry’s idea in the first place. “She’s pretty fit and cool and fucking fun to talk to.”

“Oh, I bet you lot _talked all night,_ judging by how tired you look,” Harry chimed in, raising his eyebrows, his voice a slow, sarcastic drawl. Niall cackled again, banging a fist on the sliding door. “You should probably _talk_ more.”

“You’re not allowed to give me any shit about this, Harry.” Liam lightly kicked Harry’s shin with his boot. Harry retaliated swiftly by kicking Liam back with his toe. “I don’t know if she wants to see me again, though... She was kind of cold this morning.” 

Harry straightened, placed his mug on the railing, and pointed a finger at Liam’s nose. His eyes narrowed, the sign of a serious Harry Styles.

“Look, we’ve only got a handful of days left until we ship off back to the motherland, and at least enjoy the off time. Text her and find out,” Harry said, and Liam watched Niall nod vigorously behind him. “And be with someone who isn’t Sophia.”

Sophia. Well, he hadn’t even considered anything about her in at least 48 hours.

“Low blow, Harold. But we’ll see,” Liam conceded. Niall reached over, and ruffled his hair.

Liam finally texted Jess two hours later, at the recording studio. He didn’t hold his breath.

He didn’t think about Sophia at all.

+++

It was nine PM on a Sunday and Jess had a very distracting someone in her room.

“I have a question, Liam." He stood at the foot of her bed, shrugging off his hoodie, broad-shouldered and languid and lovely. She sat on the cover, bare knees tucked under her chin. 

“Shoot.” He toed off his boots. 

Two nights together, and this was the third. She didn’t think she’d hear from him again, settling it as a one night stand, even  though Liam made a point of telling her he wanted to see her again, enjoyed himself, asked if she wanted breakfast. It was a speech she’d heard before, as if men read the same book about what to say after a one night stand, but he sounded genuine. Even so, she refused, giving into logic. She watched him walk away from her doorway. 

A little piece inside her heart hoped, though, and it made her feel ridiculous.

And then, he texted, which made her stop dead in her tracks in the middle of a long, distracting run around the reservoir.  

_\-- Sry i had to run out so quick. seriously enjoyed last nite. Can I see u again please ? xx_

That little piece of hope burned a hole through her chest.

_\-- What makes you think I’m that sure of a thing? ;)_

_\-- well *i* was a sure thing from the get go. ur move._

She almost threw her phone into the water, but instead, contemplated his offer for a few seconds. Fuck it.

_\--Free whenever you are._

Later, Jess realized she liked the tangle of his limbs with hers as they fell asleep, holed up in her apartment. So, she texted _him_ that Sunday evening, curiosity and want unsated, her fingers moving of their own volition over her the phone keyboard. 

And right then, he was at the foot of her bed, rocking his weight toe to heel, and back again, arms behind his back, like an innocent schoolboy.

“So, what exactly is going on here?” Jess asked.

“I’m in pretty girl’s bedroom, not wearing shoes, and I want to touch her.”  A coy smile swept across his face, his head tilted. 

She sighed, rolling her eyes, her legs falling in front of her. She scooched to the foot of the bed, straightening, and met his eyes. Liam's smile dissolved a little.

“Clever, Payne. Seriously, though what's happening here?  I’m flying a _little_ bit blind. It’s not every day a very nice and very hot ---and very, very, famous --boy hides out in my apartment and ravishes me. On top of that, said boy is leaving in two days to go back to his home in London, _then_ a month long US tour. 

“Not that I’m particularly averse to being a one-time thing, but a girl wants to know when she’s a fling. Or… not a fling. Sorry, I’m rambling.” 

She let out a shaky laugh, and twisted the duvet between her fingers, just to do anything other than touch him at that second. Touching would end the conversation. Touching would lead to sex. Really good sex. Shit.

Liam dropped to his knees in front of her, fitting his body the space between her thighs and the edge of the bed.  “Hey, you texted _me_ , remember?” 

Jess scoffed, rolling her eyes, pushing him away slightly.

“Sorry, sorry.” He exhaled through the side of his mouth. “Look, Jess, I like you.” He fit his fingers underneath her chin, thumb caressing skin, a soft look of concern knit in his eyes.

“That’s not an answer, Liam. And for the record, I like you too, obviously. But what after? Are we just friends? Not friends? Do we just not talk again?” She swept her hand up to his wrist, fingers barely circling it, feeling the tiny bones underneath his warm skin. 

He sat back on his heels, hands falling to her rest on her bare knees. “I dunno. Blind leading the blind here, too. I don’t… normally do this,” he said, carefully. 

She didn’t believe him, and her face must have given it away. “No, seriously! I’ve never seen anyone outside of the UK more than once, honestly.” 

Jess clucked her tongue. “So, you’ve seen girls outside of London before. I just want to know what I’ve fallen into here. ”

“Like, I fooled around with one or two girls in Australia. That’s it. I was reboundin’.” 

“So, no different ho’s in area codes, huh?” 

He let out a sharp burst of a laugh. “No, I haven’t seen anyone since then. Not even back home. I’ve been keeping to myself the past few months.  Honestly, if it wasn’t for Harry...” Liam trailed off, then, “I’m _glad_ that he made me talk to you.”

“I work for your record company,” she added, leaning back on her palms, Liam still between her knees.

He threw her a challenging look as if to say, _so?_

“It matters, Liam. I don’t know if I’d be in deep shit if the man found out I was sleeping with talent,” she explained. “But I don’t want to find out. It could cost me my job.” 

“Talent,” he echoed, shoulders falling. 

"You know what I mean," she sighed. 

They stayed there in silence for a few seconds, both lost in thought, his pale hands on her knees becoming increasingly distracting.  

She couldn’t pinpoint why this whole situation worried her. It was myriad of reasons really, but mostly it’s because she _liked_ him, even three days into it. Like, really liked him.

Relationships were not her present forte. It scared her to think about, Liam’s UK citizenship notwithstanding. The last one ended -- after a whole year of opening herself up, New York rooftops and heart eye emojis -- so badly. It didn't really end; more like it was severed from her, like waking up from a terrible car accident with an arm amputated.

It ended with a simple conversation: _I don't love you anymore. Actually, I don’t know if I ever did. Sorry._

Rebuilding the pieces of her life after that, extricating the _his_ pieces from the _hers,_ took several months and a lot of alcohol-induced bad decisions. Relationships were currently crap, and she still dealt with phantom pains.

But she _liked_ Liam, and the way his hands felt on her knees. Inconvenient, that.

“What about this,” Liam began, slotting fingers with hers, and gently pulled her upright with a surprising ease.  “What if we just enjoy this, right now. Keep it casual. I like you. You like me.”

She paused, and couldn’t say no to the fond, resolved look in his brown eyes. 

“Liam, we can figure it out as it goes along. I’m honestly not looking for anything serious. Are you?” She swallowed the anxious feeling, pushing it down into her stomach.

He paused, brows furrowed, then simply, “No.” She watched his pulse quicken in his neck. 

“Alright, then.” Jess breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed him by the collar, bunching the shirt in her hands. “Now kiss me before I go fucking crazy.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a lovely Labo(u)r Day if your country partakes. I myself had a few piña coladas and a very, very strong frozen margarita before sobering up enough to edit this chapter.
> 
> A very lovely thank you to Loose for being there for me as I bash my head against the wall and talking through some important plot points. You should read her story, which is a really great Harry Styles fic (but about so much more) either on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1885575/chapters/4062987) or [1DFF](http://onedirectionfanfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=99402). My story would not exist without L... so yeah, get after it and show her some love. 
> 
> **Songspirations for this chapter** :  
> "Last Person" by Jenny Owen Youngs  
> "Sing" by Ed Sheeran  
> "You Look So Fine" - Garbage
> 
> See you next week! Comments, kudos, reviews, gifs, I will always take, and always respond.
> 
> \- A


	3. tres

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than last week...

"So, Liam's still texting you?" Taylor asked, slightly nonplussed, over his huge meatball sandwich. It was Friday, and they were eating lunch inside a deli near the office. "What's he saying all the way from Londontown?"

"That he liked me," Jess answered, putting down a more reasonably sized Italian sub. "He keeps sending me what he enjoyed about fucking me." 

"Nice! Also,  _gross_ _._ " Taylor took a bite of his massive sandwich, and chewed thoughtfully. 

"And I keep answering, so I'm not any better."

"I don't want to know the explicit details about your hetero love affair, Jessica," Taylor quipped. "Have you ever Googled One Direction? Or like, Liam, specifically?”

“Noooope,” Jess replied, popping the p.

She was a big fat liar. She typed “One Direction” into a search window the day after Liam left for Newark, and contemplated clicking on the band’s Wikipedia page for two seconds. Shame gurgled in her stomach. She closed that tab immediately, and instead, looked at videos of capybaras for an hour.

She sipped her Diet Coke, feigning innocence. “Bad idea, though, right?”

“Oh my  _God_ , seriously? It’s the  _best_  idea. Liam’s been gone for four days and you haven’t been fucking curious at all about  _anything_?” Taylor gestured wildly with his sub, almost hitting his glasses. His aqua-colored coif seemed to look especially bouncy when he was excited. “What’s he all about? Rumors? Songs? Don’t you want to know _everything_  about him?”

“Of course I’m interested," Jess tried not to sound too pathetic. “But Taylor, that’s a fucking black hole.”

Jess ignored all of her friends’ (especially Taylor’s) text messages over the previous weekend. And as recompense, she allowed Taylor to grill her mercilessly about Liam. He acted wounded that Jess didn’t steal Harry Styles’ number out of Liam’s phone for him, but also high-fived her a bunch, on account of all the sex.

“ _Irregardless_ , Jessica,” Taylor had a flair for the dramatic,  _Mean Girls_  reference aside, even with a sandwich in hand. “You’re canceling your Friday plans, and we are sitting down in front of your TV. We are watching their DVDs.”

She began to say something indignant, but Taylor interrupted. “No. Call Marissa. We are watching _This Is Us_ , like,  _tonight_ , and you will Google Liam Payne and we’re going to get shwasted.” 

Jess decided not to argue any further, knowing it was futile. They returned to their sandwiches.

+++

Marissa, her old college roommate and one of her closest friends, knew even less about One Direction than Jess did ( _“Who the fuck is Liam Payne? Is he hot?”_  her text message read. Then another: _"Googled -- my little sister loves this fucking band, yo!"_ ) She was a petite Puerto Rican from somewhere on Long Island, armed with a journalism degree, and great. She promised to show up at Jess’ place anyway as long as pizza was involved. The chance to hang, drink, and possibly internet stalk dudes was exactly up Marissa's alley. 

Marissa and Taylor arrived at her apartment later that evening with a bottle of gin, a box of pizza, and two Blu-Rays:  _This is Us_  and  _Where We Are Tour: Live from San Siro._

Liam’s profile was front and center on the  _This Is Us_  cover. His hair was cut into a thick mohawk. His arm was stretched towards the audience, a mic in his other hand. Taylor caught her smiling at the case, rolled his eyes, then poured her a really strong gin and tonic.

“Liam can sing. And he’s cute,” Marissa said, sometime into the movie, leaning her head on Jess’ shoulder. Taylor lounged on the floor next to the tiny couch, a bowl of chips balanced on his lap, gin and tonic in one hand, completely engrossed by the antics on screen.

“But Harry’s  _hotter_  than the fires of hell you bitches are going to,” Taylor muttered, gesturing at Harry’s cheeky grin flashing on the screen. Marissa flipped Taylor off.

“Is this all they do, Tay, just stand there and sing?” Jess asked. She expected dancing, or matching outfits, like *N SYNC.

“They don’t even have real choreography,” Marissa stated. At that second, Liam thrusted his hips with the rhythm on screen, and Jess stifled a giggle. Not only was Liam talented singer; she had experienced that rhythm firsthand.

“It’s so compelling, though,” Taylor retorted, throwing them a dirty look. "Honestly, Jess, as someone who's in A&R, I am so surprised you don't agree. Or know more about One Dee." 

"Hey, Aaron only works A&R for rock slash folk slash indie rock bands, remember? I'm not in the pop department. I know some of their songs. Not all of us are up on _every_ facet pop music, Tay," Jess threw back at him, slightly affronted. They continued watching, filling their stomachs with more pizza and booze.

It was bizarre watching a slick documentary about someone that she spent a whole weekend with between the sheets. But, this was an edited, marketable version of Liam Payne, smiling, styled and made for all audiences. She experienced the explicit content sticker version with all the swear words and sexual references.

She wondered how many girls would kill for that. Or kill her. Christ. Any inkling she had about the insanity, the multi-million dollar glossiness of their career, was now a definite. Girls absolutely lost their shit over One Direction.

There was a quiet scene with a tired Liam on the tour bus at night, starkly lit, his cheekbones prominent. The highway streamed behind him in the window with streaks and blurry globes of street lights.

_“I worry about meeting somebody who’s truthful and is 100% just there because of me. I just don’t like the idea of somebody liking me because of this and not because of me.” A smile, not quite rueful, spread across his face._

Jess gave the tiniest nod to the Liam on screen, to the Liam in London, to the universe.

_“And it’s hard to detract and think, ‘If I didn’t have all this, would they like me or not?’”_

Marissa nudged her shoulder. “Was he good?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. 

Jess shrugged instead of replying, and an unintentional smirk curled on her lips. Marissa laughed. 

“God, you’re  _such_  an asshole,” Taylor declared, and flung a Dorito at her head. 

+++

Four gulps into her third gin and tonic, Jess slowly typed "Liam Payne" into her browser, guilt fluttering in her stomach. They had switched to the other DVD,  _Live from San Siro_. A song called “Happily” blared from her TV speakers, its beat reminiscent of Mumford and Sons. Taylor and Marissa danced wildly around her coffee table, both three sheets to the wind, their hands windmilling to the guitar licks. 

She breathed in for a count of three, eyes closed, and pressed enter.

The results were standard. A lengthy Wikipedia page about One Direction, and each member of the band. Liam's Instagram was full of (shirtless) selfies. Gif-heavy Tumblr posts recounting his every move. She scrolled through his Twitter and found his tweets, like his text messages, were always grammatically incorrect, except broadcasted to over 18 million people.

The cursor lingered over the “Follow” button on Twitter. Taylor slid up behind the couch, and placed his chin on her shoulder.

"You should do a search for ‘Liam Payne gossip’. I wonder if there’s anything salacious,” Taylor said, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever thought.

Jess shoved his face from her shoulder. "S’that a good idea right now?"

“Just fucking do it, Jess,” Marissa slurred. She lied on the floor in front of the TV with a hand over her eyes. “I want to know if Zayn and Liam are actually a couple. Tumblr seems to think so.”

“Well, they’re obviously  _not_ ,” Jess answered, matter-of-factly. There was a pause, and they all erupted into drunken laughter for a few minutes, leaving her cheeks sore.

“I’m doing it!” Taylor exclaimed, quickly snatched the laptop from Jess. He plopped himself on the opposite end of the couch. She watched Taylor delicately type the phrase into the search bar, and Jess rolled her eyes.

“Okay, ladies, let’s see what we got,” he said, scrolling through a few articles. “A few pieces about their newest album,  _which is out in the middle of October by the way_ , blah, blah, it’s a big departure from their last two. Liam’s playing the bass on a few songs. Blah, blah, boring.”

He tapped a few times on the trackpad, and scanned the screen. Suddenly, Taylor’s eyes widened behind his thick glasses, and a tiny shriek escaped his lips. “Oh, shit.”

Marissa shot up from the floor. “Oooh, what?”

“Jess, this is dated two weeks ago, and it’s on TMZ, so...” he trailed off, swallowing, and turned the screen to face Jess. He pointed a finger at a headline, and read out loud:  _ **"Liam Payne: Back with Ex Sophia Smith!”**_

Jess didn’t —couldn’t— say anything at that moment. She blinked at the headline above a picture of a glamorous brunette in a curve-hugging dress and stilettos, leaving a club with Liam’s arm around her waist. Then, Jess leaned over, and reached out to scroll through the article, a frown twitching at the corners of her mouth. She skipped down past the text to the twenty photos of Liam, in the same leather jacket he wore when they met and a sheen of partying on his face, and the girl — _Sophia_ — climbing into a black car.

"There’s a thirty two second video. Great,” Jess said, flatly. She clicked it. Marissa whistled.

"Well, she’s intimidatingly pretty. Good for him,” Jess stated, leaning back and picking up her glass from the coffee table. She took a large drink, feeling the burn of gin hit her throat and worm its way into her stomach. The concert played on in the background.

Marissa pursed her lips. “Wait, if they’re together right now, and he... and you.. last weekend. He cheated on her with you? What? Asshole move.” She turned to Jess with an apologetic look.

Jess sighed, and took another defeated gulp of gin.

“That fucking dick,” Taylor said, turning the laptop around, brow furrowed. “Let me see if I can dig anything more up on this.”

Jess shook her head at Taylor and pushed the laptop shut. “It doesn’t matter, guys. It was a one-time thing, and I probably won’t see him again.” 

She finished her drink in one go, and the movie continued on with fireworks and screaming. Jess only resisted the urge to text Liam for an hour.

+++  

It was close to five AM, the sky an inky shade of blue, when Liam finally dragged himself home from Funky Buddha, a metric ton of vodka coursing through his veins. He slumped slightly against the lift walls, dizzy and appreciative for a good night.

Tom insisted they go out to the club after noticing the contemplative crease between Liam’s brows during an intense round of FIFA. Liam also might have mashed on the controller buttons a little too hard.

Sometimes, Tom could read him better than anyone. He knew not to ask why Liam crushed his XBox controller into oblivion, and instead pulled him up and shouted, “WE NEED VODKA!” Liam was fucking grateful.

Liam let it slip anyway. They were isolated in a plush booth, more than a few shots in, listening to the steady beat of the electronica the club liked to play.

_"There's this girl I met in New York, and I feel mental, because I can't stop thinking about her. It was just three nights. Three nights of amazing sex! And, T-T-Tom, she's got this hair, yeah? It's brown and wavy, like. Wait, what's better than brown? Mahogany? And -and, fuck. She's brilliant. Yes, more vodka sounds fine."_

Tom clapped Liam on the back of the neck and shook his head at his ridiculousness.

He stumbled a little as he threw the door open to his spacious flat, throwing his keys into the bowl by the door, London sparkling below him through the bayed windows. That view alone was worth the down payment, and he never tired of the expanse of lights below.

Liam ambled through the dark to his open bedroom door, not bothering to flip any light switches. Head buzzing, he flopped backwards onto his bed, the comforter like a cloud around him. He fumbled for the mobile in his pocket. A few text notifications lingered on the screen.

One was from Jess, the timestamp about thirty minutes prior. Four, almost five, days passed since he left New York, and the only contact between them was a spattering of innuendo-laden text messages, each one making him feel twisty and confused and really horny all at once.

He opened her message.

_\-- LIAM JAMES PAYNE THE INTERNET IS FULL OF SECRETS ABOUT YOU._

_\-- jesus, find anything good luv_

_\-- Your girlfriend Sophia is very pretty. Lucky._

“Oh, fuck,” he said to himself.

_\-- stop reading tmz or whatever rite now pls !_

He groaned, a little too drunk, but his fingers managed to type the words. 

_\-- soph and me are no longer together officially as of last month jess_

Liam watched the little response dots dance across his screen for ages, the bedroom spinning faster around him.

_\-- So you didn't cheat on her with me._

_\-- no. no i didnt. dont believe every mad thing u read online_

_\-- There are pictures of you leaving some party together like 2 weeks ago??_

Liam flung his snapback across the room, which hit his favorite framed print of Batman, now tilted at an ugly angle.

_\-- mutual mate’s bday party. shes still my friend and i gave her a lift home !_

There was silence on her end for a few minutes, leaving Liam alone in his dark room, the glow of the phone and the lights of London his only companions. 

He wanted to spill his guts to Jess, a girl he’d seen all of three times, a million kilometers away in another country. To shake her and explain that him and Sophia fizzled out from the strain of an on-again-off-again long distance relationship. She couldn’t handle how often he was away. But most of all, they both couldn’t handle the real distance between them when they were together. No matter how often Liam came back to London in between shows, or even when he flew her with the entourage during uni breaks, or how many vacations together. It wasn’t enough to bridge the gap of growing resentment and restlessness.

It ended, and it reminded him that his expensive and expansive flat felt lonely, and his bed was very, very big.

There were no text messages long enough to explain how the press was so wrong about him and Sophia. How he was so wrong about him and Sophia. Or that, in spite of every warning in his head about a girl an ocean away, _don't do this to yourself, mate,_  he couldn’t get Jess and her freckles and the small grey walled flat out of his mind.

Liam almost jumped out of his skin at the pinging notification of her next message. 

_\-- Sorry I'm just the drunkest moron right now._

A pause, then another ding.

_\-- Liamm, I like you and I'm sorry_

He carefully typed a reply.

_\-- I’m pretty pissed too. can we talk 2morrow? pls_

Liam exhaled, slow and steady to offset his brutally beating heart as the next message popped on his screen.

_\-- Ok sure. Call me._

After reading their exchange approximately forty times, the words blurring to blue in his eyes, he fell asleep curled on top of the covers, cradling the half-charged mobile to his chest.

+++

Hangovers were bad.

Hangovers involving drunken text messages to a person you've slept with were worse.

Hangovers including drunken text messages to a person you've slept who lived across the Atlantic about his ex-girlfriend were _the worst_.

She had locked herself in the bathroom for ten minutes after finishing the movie, slumping to the cool, tiled floor, feet against the toilet. The drink, Taylor and Marissa’s haranguing, and the internet were a little too much to handle.

Instead of throwing up, Jess let her drunken state betray her through text, like she had any claim to Liam at all. Waking up with the taste of that in her mouth wasn’t exactly what she had planned for Saturday. Vomit would have been preferable.

Oh God, her fucking brain hurt, like a jackhammer being wielded by a kangaroo on uppers.

The sound of a FaceTime ringtone startled her out of staring at her ceiling for what seemed like an hour, head throbbing too much to leave the safety of her bed.

Liam’s name flashed on her screen. A momentary panic hit her, because, oh god, did she feel like shit, which meant she probably looked about the same. Jess cursed. Scrambling around the room as the phone rang on, she scrounged a dirty purple sweatshirt from a pile of clothes. She zipped it to her throat, and threw up the hood.

She hit the green answer button at the last possible second, and curled up on her duvet.

It took a few seconds to connect, the pixels aligning themselves from nothing until they finally resembled the planes of his face with tired brown eyes and a small smile, all of it slightly shadowed.

“Can you hear me?” He laid sideways, his arm underneath his head, a maroon hoodie peeking into the frame.

“Yeah, I can. What about me?”

“Loud and clear,” he replied, softly, face blank. "Hi."

"Hi."

“So, about last night--”

“Liam, I was really drunk, and I'm embarrassed. I don’t have any right to grill you about your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I mean. I'm sorry.”

His eyebrows creased briefly at the mention of  _girlfriend_ , then his features softened after a blink. “I would say, ‘you could have asked me,’ but it’s not like we’ve set a precedent for talking about shit other than how I wanted to shag you, so I get it.”

Jess sighed, burying her head in the crook of her elbow, her voice muffled. “I don’t want to be that person, Liam. I’m not insane. I’m sorry, okay?”

There was a pregnant pause, and she peeked one eye over her sleeve at her phone. She found him grinning openly, the screen a little closer to his face.

“You are so fucking cute,” he said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” She threw him the bird, shaking her head, and faced the screen fully. “I look, and feel, like death warmed over.”

“Me too, honestly.” He did, kind of, with a 5 o’clock shadow dusting his face and the bags under his eyes a little more prominent this close up. But he was still handsome, even pixelated and hungover.

“So, you Googled me, and obviously watched our films. Do you have any other questions?” Liam asked. The screen jostled for a few seconds, and Liam stood up, stretching. It was a familiar motion she saw in her own apartment. He reached his arms overhead, muscles long and toned, followed by a yawn.

“Is Louis that much of a shit in real life?”

Liam laughed, low and amused. The camera bobbed up and down, as he strolled around what she assumed was his apartment. It looked spacious. “Yes, and no. Mostly no. You’d like him. He’s a laugh.”

“Hmmm... One from my friend Marissa, actually: can Zayn’s cheekbones cut marble? She might be in love with him."

"I’ll have to get back to you on that, as I’ve never experienced that myself. They are really pointy and whatnot, so I wouldn't be surprised."

“Did I mention I was sorry?” Her mouth pursed into something resembling a pout.

“Yes, Jess, I forgive you. I can’t blame you.” He paused and the screen flashed white, and finally adjusted to the light as he leaned against a large window, the sky a dusky blue behind him. “If we’re being honest and fair, I'm guilty of Googling you as soon as I got back to London. Your results aren't as, um, colorful as mine, obviously." 

She chuckled. "Technology is amazing. How did anyone ever find out anything about each other before web searches?" 

"No idea. It's pretty impressive that you keep a private Twitter, Instagram  _and_ Facebook.” 

"But did you find my secret Liam Payne fan Tumblr?” She pulled her legs up, phone resting on her knees. “It’s all shirtless pictures of you from when you stayed over. There also might be video. It’s got a million reblogs.”

He snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Riiiiight, love.”

Liam cleared his throat after a few seconds of contemplative silence, both of them staring out past the cameras. “I know don’t really owe you an explanation about Sophia, but me and her are one hundred percent done. I don’t cheat. Have never cheated. On her. With her. Whatever. That’s the truth.”

Jess nodded, watching him slide down the window to the floor, the picture fuzzing out a bit. He continued, a little softer, shoulders deflating. “I’m going to be up and down the east coast of America in about two months for a small tour. I wasn’t lying back in New York when I said I liked you. I’m not expecting anything, but I know I really, really want to see you when I come back.”

She contemplated his offer for a few seconds. Tension rose in her shoulders, two sides of her brain competing with each other. Of course she liked him, and oh God, he was so far away and it had only been five days. Jess failed spectacularly at keeping this tamped down. If the night before was any indication, it made her feel insane. It could get obsessive.

Emotional turmoil, brought to you by Google!

“Liam, I’d like to see you,” she stated, treading carefully, bunching her lip between her index finger and thumb. “But, what if we just stayed friends? No sex. No physical stuff. Friends.”

She immediately wished she could reach through the digital wires connecting their countries and pull that statement back before it got to him, but too late. Darkness fell over his eyes, and his head slumped forward onto his chest, his messy hair sticking up in front of the camera.

Liam huffed out a sardonic laugh. “Get to know each other and all that. That’s the choice, innit?”

“It would probably be best for the both of us. And my sanity,” she said, honestly, and still careful. 

His eyes met hers through the screen, his face mostly graced with an apologetic, lopsided smile. “Okay. I can do that. Can I not message you about your perfect mouth anymore?”

Jess flipped him off again, a flush rising from her neck to her cheeks.

They lingered on their phones a little while longer, discussing nothing and everything. _Breaking Bad_. London. His flat. Any subject that wasn’t them or their wants. Liam read her tour dates and locations, a tinge of excitement rising in his voice. She promised to check her calendar. They would hang out.  _Promise._

They prolonged their goodbyes, and she watched Liam touch the screen with his finger, a sadness to his movements. When it ended, she stayed curled up on her bed, staring at her phone, feeling strangely numb and regretful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, funday. I've had a pretty crazy week at work, so I'm glad I was able to find the time to edit this chapter. I'm actually working as I post this (Christ.) 
> 
> Once again, thank you to my wonderful beta, Loose (whose story you should be reading [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1885575/chapters/4062987)).
> 
>  **Songspirations of the week** :  
> "Redemption" - Frank Turner  
> "The Rat" - The Walkmen
> 
> Hopefully my job will be less insane this week, and I can bang out and edit chapters 4 and 5. Wish me luck. Love you all.
> 
> \- A
> 
> PS you can find us on [Tumblr](http://twooldfourthis.tumblr.com)


	4. cuatro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies:
> 
> One, I'm sorry that this is so late. Work has been a total bitch, and my social life has been completely nutso (which I shouldn't really be complaining about.)
> 
> Two, excuse the length, but there was a lot to say. Onto the chapter.

Liam’s mobile alarm startled him awake. The meandering tones made him want to hurl the piece of junk across the room. Just five more minutes. He was too exhausted, too haggard, too everything at once. The last month was considered a small break, which made Liam want to laugh, and possibly cry; he couldn’t decide. There was a semblance of a vacation one weekend with a few of his best mates on an island in Greece with crystal clear water. The sun warmed his skin, as they pulled long sips of grappa straight out of the bottle. 

Otherwise, the “break” consisted of finalizing One Direction’s new tour in support of their newest album, _Yours._ The record was set to be released the week of their small jaunt to the States, and they sat through long meetings with management about merchandise, their promotion schedule in each city between shows, and sifted through bunch of paperwork that Liam could hardly read (that’s why they paid a lot of money for lawyers, Liam concluded.) 

The last two weeks were dedicated to rehearsals back in London; endless sessions in a small theatre that started early and ended late, which included choreography, and fittings with Caroline. Liam could feel the exhaustion in the rest of the boys’ eyes at the end of each day, hear it in their curt replies. Niall even snapped once or twice.

They had decided together to scale back this tour and give their fans a glimpse of something different. After playing places like Wembley Stadium and the Rose Bowl, where could they go next? 

During an early meeting, Harry suggested the idea of a small, intimate theatre tour with cheap tickets and a handful of dates. The _Personal Space Tour 2015_ sold out in minutes, and the prospect of playing to theatres with two thousand fans bolstered all of their excitement. He was content. Liam couldn’t recall the last time he sang to a crowd that small. Probably years.  

Liam wasn’t really one to complain about the life he led as part of One Direction, but the last push of work before leaving for tour always felt like a bit much. An anxiety simmered underneath his skin until he finally stepped out onto the stage, mic in hand, hearing the crowd scream, any misgivings dissipating into the air like a vapor. That’s when it felt worth it.

But, right then, tucked underneath his comforter, he really wanted to keep sleeping.

Groaning, he reached over, and ended the alarm. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with one hand as he unlocked his phone, scrolling through his Twitter and Instagram. He replied to a few fans, read his emails, and wrote a quick one to his mum. 

Texts, he saved for last, because there was usually one from Jess. 

_\-- Yo, you’ve been working too much. Look at this cute dog!_

Attached to the message was a gif of a labrador puppy chasing a butterfly. He chuckled. Jess liked sending him random, cute animals, especially puppies “because you’re kind of a puppy, dude.” The messages usually coincided with Liam’s long working nights, when he didn’t have time to even check his mobile.

Dragging his bottom teeth against his top lip, he thumbed out a reply. _\-- aw thanks j ! hope we’re still on for skype tonight! text me whenever._

Liam dropped the phone onto his chest, sighing. It was too early for her to answer with the five hour time difference. He stared at the ceiling contentedly for a few seconds, before stretching his way out of bed. 

At first, he’d felt some hesitance after Jess offered to be friends, not being able to tell if this was her way of telling him to gently fuck off.

He’d text her something funny and light: a selfie at the studio with Niall making a face in the background, a quip about a TV show, anything to start a conversation with her. Jess replied with wittier retorts, pictures of herself at shows, and random snippets of her days back in New York. He fought hard not to be dirty or romantic, pushing back thoughts of her soft, soft sheets, the curve of her spine, or the way her pink lips fit against his. It was hard enough not trying to imagine heavy-lidded hazel-green eyes while having a proper wank in the shower. 

If some of the texts were flirty, Liam would never admit it out loud.

But the conversation never actually ended, and it was startling how easily she fit into his routine. The texts turned into weekly --sometimes twice a week-- Skype and FaceTime sessions. The two of them talked easily, and Liam wondered why he’d felt so hesitant.  Usually, he chatted her from the cocoon of his bed, almost falling asleep to the sound of her voice. Or sometimes he’d sit in the studio late at night while taking a break from songwriting, the glow of the computer screen illuminating her tiny smirk, her brown hair up in a messy bun.

From thousands of miles away, Liam built the foundations of a friendship with Jess. It was almost worse than if he hadn’t. He yearned to touch every piece of the life in New York she shared over a screen just to feel closer. To graze his fingertips over every worn book and scratched record and glass of whiskey at some shitty bar. All he had were pixels and her voice on a laptop speaker, and he forced himself to be okay with that. 

Likewise, he forced himself out of bed. It was the last day of rehearsals. His mouth quirked into a grin, and he saved the gif of the puppy to his Camera Roll. 

+++

“Ten minutes, lads, that’s all I need,” Paul, their choreographer, pleaded from the floor of the theatre. “We just need to get through the last bit of footing for the encore.” 

“We’ve got it though, don’t we, Paul?” Louis shot back petulantly. “It’s not hard. It’s such a small stage! Not much space to move, yeah? Haz stands there, Payne-o here--” He gestured to the spaces around him, and Paul interrupted. 

“Well, show me you’ve got ‘All That I Want’ down pat, Louis, and all of us can go home.” Paul’s patience wore a little thin towards the end of the day, and Louis liked to egg him on. “We’re so close, boys.”

They’d rehearsed for twelve hours already. Liam glanced at his bandmates as they shuffled back onto their first marks. He was content, but worn out. Niall, brushed by, hair mussed and sweaty, and stifled a yawn. Liam reached over to squeeze his shoulder a couple of times, and Niall smiled broadly.

“I can’t wait to get a pint after,” Niall whispered, as Paul offered Zayn some notes. “Fucking relax for a minute. You up for it, Liam? My place. Zayn said he’d come, too, before going back to his wife and all. Haz and Lou are gonna do their own thing, as usual.”

“Maybe for a bit, mate. Got plans late tonight.” 

He remembered Jess’ message: _7pm EST ok? Work is fucking crazy and I’m meeting Marissa for a gym thing._

Niall snorted, and idly adjusted his mic stand. “I’ve got Skype on my damn laptop, too. We’ll all talk to your girlfriend tonight.”

“Jess is _not_ my girlfriend.” Liam failed spectacularly at not sounding like a twelve year old scuffing his sneakers against the stage.

Niall chuckled. “Right.” 

“Liam and Niall, _please_ pay attention. Josh’s about to count off the last song.” Paul clenched his jaw, and breathed out through his nostrils. Liam admired his resolve to keep them in line, even after all these years.

“Yeah, Liam, are you _quite_ finished?” Louis voice rang through the monitors, and he looked over to see Louis tip forward with his mic stand in hand, throwing him an overly-exasperated look.  Zayn snickered next to him, shaking his head, while Harry’s lips curled in amusement. They were all right idiots. 

“Sorry, Paulie.” Liam nodded, fiddling with his in-ears, and breathed into the mic. “Fuck you, Tommo.” The boys all stifled laughter before composing themselves. 

They nailed it.

+++

Jess was sweaty and rushed.  Definitely two of her least favorite feelings in the whole world, especially gripping a subway pole on a crowded 2 train, stuffed between a rotund business man and a definite Upper East Side WASP with a pinched expression. 

(Marissa had convinced her to buy a spin class Groupon at a new gym close to their respective jobs few weeks prior. _It will be totally worth it!!!_  Marissa promised in an email. They both tried not to regret it as they huffed in the back of the class, wondering what the hell they were doing as an overactive instructor yelled at the group over a Kelly Clarkson song. Basically, Marissa and Jess wanted to kill themselves.)

“Why are you in such a fucking rush?” Marissa tried to keep pace with Jess as they plodded, legs sore and heavy, toward the subway stop from the gym. “DVR exists, you know. We don’t have to bow down to network tv schedules anymore, Jess. We’re free from the shackles.”

“Plans, plans, plans,” Jess sing-songed. She hugged Marissa quickly at the uptown subway entrance, and tried to ignore the quizzical look on her face. “I’ll see you soon, kay? Love you. Just gotta get home.” 

“Love ya, too, Jess. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I _will_ find out!” Marissa called out from the top of the steps. “I WILL FIND OUT.” 

Jess checked her phone again, sighing impatiently. The subway car jostled around a turn. _6:53p._ There was absolute dick for cell signal in the tunnels, and she couldn’t let Liam know she’d be at least ten minutes late to talk. So, sweaty, rushed _and_ late: three of her least favorite feelings, all combined into one. 

Jess had kept her friendship with Liam a secret. No one else in her group knew she’d even slept with him, besides Taylor and Marissa, anyway.After that fateful night of drunken web searching, she told the two to write Liam off as a one-weekend fling; the situation was something to gossip about over drinks, to add to their plethora of inside jokes. _You fucked someone from One Direction-- who’s next, Justin Bieber? Haha, fuck you, get me a vodka._

It’s not that Jess _didn’t_ trust them with the information that her and Liam basically kept in touch every day (okay, she particularly didn’t trust Taylor not to blab to the entire world, especially her boss.) She didn’t trust the pang of want nestled inside her ribcage that made its presence known with every message. Admitting out loud that she responded -- _kept_ responding-- to Liam because she liked him, a dude who lived seventy million miles away… was a little too real. Too exposed.

Jess hated feeling vulnerable. She already had her heart rudely ripped out of her chest, thank you very much.

But, even so, she indulged herself a little with the friendship, like taking the smallest bites of leftover cake from a birthday party. There was a surprising chemistry between them that skirted the line of flirtation and she was happy with it. They were just friends. Friendly-ass friends that just slept together a few times. It was the 21st century, and people did this all the time. 

Jess wasn’t looking forward to telling Liam about missing the New York date of their tour in the first place. But now, she also had to be late with the news on top of a five hour time difference. Great. At least she had a backup plan to present.

Twenty minutes later, after taking the apartment stairs two at a time, Jess opened the laptop on her coffee table to Skype Liam. He was online, and his status was simply “ _about :)_ ”.

_Oh you know, just casually Skyping Liam Payne of One Direction. Typical Tuesday night._

She took a quick swig of beer, and clicked on his name. It rang for a few seconds, until Liam presumably accepted the call. It took a moment to connect, and she hit the keyboard to expand the window into full screen. 

A small smile rose on her lips as Liam popped onto the screen, sitting on a couch in sweatpants in an unrecognizable location. His brows knit in concentration as he fiddled with the keyboard in front of him. Next to him was a cute kid with messy blonde hair she could only place as Niall, shoveling cereal into his mouth. She’d never officially met Niall, but he’d popped up in a few of Liam’s pictures, usually with a cheeky grin on his face. 

Liam realized they connected successfully, and his expression softened as he looked at the camera lens.  “Hi hi.” 

“Hey Liam. That’s Niall, right?” The boys both had bottles of beer perched between their legs, exhaustion clear on their faces. The low sound of a television filtered in the background. 

Niall nodded, as he chewed and swallowed. “Yeh. Nice to meet you, Jess. Y’just missed Zayn, too. Liam’s at my house right now. S’way nicer than Payno’s place, lemme tell ya.” 

“Nicer than a thirty two story apartment with like, giant windows and shit? I can’t even imagine.” Jess nestled back into the couch cushions, focusing on the screen.

“Exactly! Also, I’ve also never set my balcony on fire,” Niall said into the camera, as Liam threw his hands up to cover his face with a groan. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me that story sometime, Payne.” Jess gestured with her beer bottle towards Niall’s direction. He winked back. “Sorry for being late. I know it’s past midnight there, but I got out of that spin class later than I expected, and the subway was a bag of dicks.”

  
Liam shook out a peal of laughter. “Christ, Jess. You’re so eloquent.” Niall kept eating his cereal, unfazed at her comment. 

She shrugged. “Just as God made me. How was rehearsal?”

Liam and Niall took a few minutes to describe their entire day for Jess in tandem. The image stuttered for a few seconds, and the sound came out of sync with the image, then resolved itself in the middle of a debate about Niall’s solos.  It was clear that they were excited for the tour, but Jess was tired _for_ them. All she’d done that day was hit her head against Excel, set up some meetings between talent and producers, and sweat through a spin class.

And there was that aforementioned pesky residual yearning burning slowly inside her chest.  She fought a little to not stare openly at Liam; the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank his beer, the chevron tattoos that peeked out from his hoodie sleeve, how he jostled Niall jokingly with his elbow.

“The new single’s doing really well, not that I’m surprised,” Jess told them. She’d looked up the numbers in Billboard out of curiosity. “Good job, boys.”

“It almost sounds like you purposefully listened to ‘All I Want’,” Liam accused and leaned forward towards the screen, feigning a look of shock. 

“I might have listened to the thing once or twice,” Jess confessed. “It’s hard to avoid, especially when it’s the number one song in the country. Album comes out the 20th, right?”

Both boys nodded, their enthusiasm belying their distinct exhaustion. Niall clapped his hands together, then quickly stood up. “I need a piss. And another beer. You two keep talking, eh?” Jess watched him grab his now-empty cereal bowl, and the two drained bottles. He left the screen with a wave of his hand.

Liam scooted into the center of the couch, and intertwined his fingers beneath his chin.  The screen fuzzed out a little, then reoriented itself.  “So, we’re all back in the States come next Thursday. I’ve got you on the VIP list for the Beacon Theatre gig on the 23rd.”

She twisted her mouth into a grimace. “About that, Liam.” She cleared her throat, and paused as he raised an eyebrow.  “I can’t actually make the show, because I have a few CMJ showcases to cover for work. There are a few bands Aaron’s vying for, and I have to help.”

His expression was unreadable, and a several second silence lapsed on Liam’s end with only the sound of Niall’s TV as any indication they were still connected. Then Liam broke the silence, a careful tone to his voice. “You’re not coming at all then?”

“I’m not done.” Shaking her head, she pressed the beer bottle to her cheek. The condensation cool was against it. “I can come to Philadelphia. How about that?” 

Liam’s face brightened considerably. “Awesome. You get to properly meet the lads and see the show! Do y’need a ride to Philly? A hotel room? You can get in on our bus. I can pull strings. Probably an extra room at the hotel, too.” 

“Noooo. That’ll be totally weird.” She laughed a little at his sudden verve. “I’ve got an eight dollar MegaBus ticket with my name on it and a room at the Sheraton already, Liam. I’m an _adult._ ”

A pout played on his lips. “Awwww. We could have so much fun, Jess.” 

“And be on a smelly tour bus with like, four gross boys? No, thanks. Just as long as you can get me into your sold out show for free, and get me a picture with Harry so I can lord it over Taylor, you’ll see me.” Also, Jess had no idea what would happen if she was in the same sleeping vicinity as Liam. She cared not to entertain the idea.

Liam rolled his eyes, but conceded. “Okay. But I also expect _loads_ of funfetti cakes. Paddy will ban you from the building without this funfetti you keep going on about.” Since their first date, and subsequent friendship, Jess searched through Pinterest and sent him pictures of every kind of the sprinkled cake and cookie she could find.

Niall plopped back onto the couch, and passed Liam another beer. “What are you talking about?”

“Funfettiiiiii cake,” Jess chanted at him. “Funfetti is the beeeest, Niall. Funfetti. Funfetti!”

“Funfetti!” Liam joined in, pumping his fist, the beer in his other hand. “Funfetti!”

“FUNFETTI!” Jess and Liam said in unison, or as best as they could with the online delay. “FUN-FET-TI!”

Niall sat there, confused, with one raised eyebrow, like he was watching the craziest people in the world. “Funfetti?” He raised a hesitant fist.

“Good job, Nialler.” Liam shoved Niall with his free hand, then ruffled his hair. 

Niall made a slight noise of irritation, and shook his head.  “Funfetti. Whatever. Fucking lunatics."

They all talked for a few minutes more before their yawns overtook them. Niall couldn’t wait to meet her in Philadelphia; he wanted to sneak away with her and have another cheesesteak (“They’re brilliant!”) from Jim’s. Liam gave her one last fond smile, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

After saying goodbye and shutting down Skype, Jess could not stop grinning for the rest of the evening.

+++

 _Yours_ reached number one in the US and UK as soon as it was released. 

  
Jess congratulated Liam via text, even though he was in the middle of his album-release show in London: _#1. Insane. See you in Philly._

She listened to the album four times in a row that day with the volume set to high. 

+++

The Beacon Theatre gig was perfect. Sure, there was a missed cue that caused Louis to run out on stage in a panic during “I Want”, tripping over the rug on stage and into Jon’s keyboard. And yeah, Zayn forgot one line in their new cover of Keane’s “Somewhere Only We Know” causing him to tip his head back and laugh.

It didn’t matter to any of them. The frenzied screams of the fans, the beautiful art-deco landmark of a building, and performing new songs in an intimate space: it all added up to one of the proudest moments of Liam’s life.

As soon as they ran offstage, Harry pulled Liam into an embrace, which morphed into a group hug when Niall tackled them. Louis and Zayn joined in moments later, and Liam thought they could take on the entire world. He was exactly where he wanted to be, and Liam had never felt so amped up on adrenaline before that night. 

Back at the hotel, him and Niall split a six pack of Corona, and Niall tore through a small bag of crisps from the mini-bar. He’d eaten all the ones in his own suite in the hour and some after getting back from the gig. Niall had developed the habit of raiding everyone else’s rooms early on in One Direction’s career. No one else cared.

Niall was in the middle of telling a rather lengthy joke involving two golf clubs and a sheep, still picking through some Doritos as he talked, when Liam’s mobile interrupted. He expected it to be Paul, making his aggressive rounds to all of them, begging them to sleep. 

Jess’ name flashed on the screen. 

Niall noticed the look on Liam’s face. “Go on then, ya bastard.”

Liam excused himself to answer it on the balcony and Niall threw him a cheesy thumbs up. He slid the glass balcony door open, and was met with the cool October air. It felt like rain was coming.

“‘Lo, Jess.”

“Liam. Which hotel are you staying at in my fine city?” 

He fumbled for the name. “Gansevoort. On Park.”

“Okay. What are you doing right now?” 

“Niall was about to tell me the punchline to this joke about sheep and golf.”

“Oh, so I’m not interrupting anything important.” 

“I _do_ want to hear the end of it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be breathtaking, knowing Niall. I know it’s like, eleven thirty. How much longer are you gonna be up?” It sounded like a dare.

“What do you mean?” His heartbeat sped up a little. 

“I’m about to get on a subway to see you for a sec, dummy. Show got out early. Is there a special password to get up to your presumably palatial suite? Do I leave a urine sample? Fight fangirls?” 

That was unexpected. “I’ll call down to the desk, love. It’s room 1804. Ask for Tony Stark.”

He could practically hear the way her mouth formed into a grin. “Great. Be there in fifteen. You’re a fucking nerd, by the way.”

She hung up before he could answer. His heartbeat raced.

Liam stepped back into the room, ignoring Niall’s perplexed look, and fell backwards onto the plush couch. He barked out a sharp laugh at the ceiling. 

“Bad conversation?” Niall rummaged through the mini bar again. 

Liam shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “No, good one.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat. “Jess is on her way here to say hi, or something.” 

  
“Do you need me to leave?” Niall asked around a mouthful of almonds, throwing a bag of biscuits onto Liam’s chest. “Is this a private ‘special friends’ meeting?” He punctuated this with air-quotes.

“Nope. Please stay, Niall.” Liam sat up suddenly. The biscuits fell with a crinkle onto the floor. “Do I look bad? Do I smell awful? Should I change? Fuck.” A small part of him started to feel hysterical, on top of the adrenaline. Okay, so he wasn’t quite ready to see her again. Definitely hadn’t made the proper mental preparations. Did she just want to say hi? Hang out? Should he find something on the telly? Get more beer? 

He was unshowered, messy, and probably smelt like cheap beer and sweat. He should throw on some extra deodorant. You know, as soon as his brain stopped running a million miles an hour.

Niall bent over and took a deep sniff. He shrugged. “Bro, you’re fine. You might want to put on another shirt though. And like tidy up. Your shit's everywhere."

He fell backwards again, trying to gain a semblance of relief. He reached over for the fallen biscuits and tossed them back at Niall’s head. “Tell me the rest of the joke, Niall.” 

Liam didn’t really hear him, but pretended to laugh.

+++

Jess held her breath the entire fancy elevator ride up. A soft bell rang out at each floor in time with the blood pumping in her veins. 

She didn’t let the breath escape until she knocked on the door of Liam’s suite.

She had no idea what she was doing.

+++

_Knock, knock. Knockity-knock._

Niall turned his head toward the sound, and gestured with his XBox controller at the door. _Go on, go on._ Liam inhaled deeply and steadily, and tried not to bump his shin on the low coffee table as he shuffled to open the door. He managed to contain the explosion of clothes, laptop cords and random peripherals to his bedroom with Niall's help. They basically just shoved everything into the walk-in closet and called it good enough.

The door opened, and Jess looked up at him. Liam’s heart simply took a direct nosedive into his stomach when their eyes met. Fuck. He was floored, simply and utterly. Jagged pixels  -- the video chats, the few pictures she sent-- did not do her justice in the slightest. For the first time in over a month, he gazed at Jess high definition. The freckles that danced across tan skin. The hazel green of her irises underneath the fan of her lashes. The curve of her lips, which always seemed to smirk at him, especially then. 

“Hi there, Liam,” she greeted, cheerfully, a brown jacket slung over her arm. The way she said his name made his brain go haywire.

“Jess.” He steadied himself against the doorway, pretty unclear on how he was still standing. She was in this slouchy grey sweater that hung off her shoulder slightly, exposing a teasing bit of tan skin.  Wisps of brown hair peeked out from underneath a dark grey beanie thing, and she’s radiated warmth and it was wonderful and _oh god he was pathetic._ He didn’t know whether to reach out and hug her, or shake hands, or wave, so he stood there dumbly for a few seconds.

“Um, let me show you in.” Liam turned on a socked heel, hoped that she didn’t notice his lame, gaping expression, and led her to the living room area. He heard the plodding noise of her boots against the wooden floor, trailing behind him through the foyer. 

“Your suite's got a foyer,” she said, a touch of awe to her voice. “Oh, and the living room is bigger than my apartment. Cool.”

A tiny, amused snort left him. “Throw your coat anywhere. And here’s Niall.”

Niall whipped his head around from his game of FIFA, paused the game, and placed the controller down onto the couch. He lept up, his mouth pulling into a wide grin, and half-bowed. “Welcome to Liam’s suite, Jessica. May I interest you in a beer? I’m your host, Niall Horan.”

Jess laughed, amused, and Liam watched her reach out to take his hand. “Nah. Had enough whiskey at the showcase. Nice to meet you in person, finally, Niall.” 

“Ah, none of that.” Niall pulled her into a quick embrace, surprising both Liam and Jess simultaneously. A brief wave of jealousy at the contact washed over Liam. Why did Niall get to hug her so easily, and he stood there like an awkward moron? His hand twitched at the thought.

“We’re already mates, yeah?” Niall continued, ending the embrace and sitting back down.

“You’re right. Mates.” She threw a coy smile at Liam, and he didn’t know what to make of it. She slipped down onto the other end of the couch from Niall, leaving a space for Liam. 

Liam cleared his throat, and picked up the black Xbox controller from the coffee table. He was careful not to get too close to her when plopping back down onto the couch. She smelled wonderful and he wondered if she was real or like, magic.  “We can turn off the game. Find a movie or something on Netflix.”

  
“Are you kidding? I’ll play. I’m so fucking good at FIFA,” she said defiantly, crossing her legs, jaw set. 

“Really?” Liam turned his head, and threw her an incredulous look. She snatched the controller out of his hands, and their arms brushed briefly. Liam was hyper-aware of the quick contact -- it was the first time they’d touched, and something other than adrenaline shot through him, down his spine, pooling low in his stomach. 

“I do have an older brother, and soccer used to be his life before he decided the military was,” she fired back. At Niall’s visible wince, she snickered. “Christ, I’m sorry, _football._ We had season tickets to the Galaxy. My parents still do, in fact.”

This was all news to Liam. “I’ll set up a match, then, and we’ll see how good you are.” He reached over and grabbed the controller from Niall’s lap, who didn’t offer any protest besides an exaggerated pout. 

“You’re going to get your ass beat, son,” Jess challenged, furrowing her brow. She bit her lip while her fingers slid over the buttons. Liam resisted every instinct to kiss Jess to shut her up. Instead, he tightened a grip on the other controller, and pressed start.

+++

Jess won 3 matches. 

Liam and Niall won 2 each, respectively. They were beaten soundly.

He had never felt so attracted to someone in his twenty two years of life, and it was just a fucking video game.

“I should have put money on this,” she said, teasingly, with a smug look. She placed the controller back onto the coffee table. “Like, at least 100 bucks. You’re all loaded. Easy money, slipping through my fingers.” 

“I never doubted you for a second, Jess,” Niall added, slightly crestfallen, from the other end of the couch. “She beat us with Clint bloody Dempsey on her team! I’m just going to give you ten dollars.”

Niall reached into his pocket, rifled through the bills. He wadded it up into a ball and threw it at her. 

A frown pulled on the corner of Liam’s mouth. Not because he’d been beaten at his own game (literally), or because Niall and Jess were getting along swimmingly (which was great. He believed that anyone who couldn’t get on with Niall was not worth knowing.) No, he was confused, and turned on, and he had no idea what the fuck was happening. Without him noticing, she’d sidled closer as the matches went on, tucked against his side from shoulder to knee. It was maddening to have her so, so close, but he couldn’t casually throw an arm around her, or run the pad of his fingertip on the exposed seam of her neck.

In another universe, he’d shoo out Niall out of the room right then, and proceed to shag the hell out of her, until they both forgot their own names.

He was just lonely, he told himself. And we’re just friends. 

She noticed his pained expression. “Liam, don’t look so sad. You’re probably better than me at Call of Duty.” She stretched her palm towards his cheek --hesitation glimmered in her eyes for a brief second--  then pinched his cheek.

Just friends. It took him a second to shake off the burn that lingered on his skin. 

“I’m still up to watch something,” Liam offered, after checking his watch. It was close to one AM, and he didn’t feel quite sleepy yet, a mixture of fading adrenaline and want pumping through him.

“Adventure Time!” Niall exclaimed, bouncing his head.

He turned to Jess, and she met his eyes with a serene expression, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She didn’t avert her gaze, and he swallowed. “That okay?” He wanted her to stay. To talk. Anything. Everything. He’d put on a whole season if she said yes.

She blinked at him, and nodded with an odd tilt of her head. “Put on the episode with Fionna and Cake. I’ve got time for one or two.”

Niall whooped in approval. Liam found the episode on Netflix.

He was keenly aware of Jess’ shifting next to him, the movements perceptible in his peripheral vision, as Fionna grappled with her crush on Prince Gumball on screen. He stole tiny glances, watching Jess pull her knees up to her chest, letting out a breathy giggle at the animated antics. She stifled a yawn when Prince Gumball serenaded the heroine and cat through the Candy Kingdom.

Towards the middle of the second episode (something about this lemon-headed bloke called the Earl of Lemongrab, and dog buns. The show was amazingly weird), her head slumped onto his shoulder. Jess had fallen asleep against him. 

Niall gave an open mouth yawn as the credits rolled. He stood up, and stretched his arms up to the ceiling. “Jeeeesuus, it’s late. Back to my room then. What time do we have to be up tomorrow?”

“On the bus by seven,” Liam responded, softly. He gestured towards Jess, her breath ghosting faintly over his arm.

Niall made a silent gesture of apology. “Need help with Jess?” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Nah, I’ll wake her up after you leave. Thanks, Ni. See you tomorrow.” 

Niall winked, patted Liam warmly on the cheek twice, and crept out of the suite to his own room down the hall.

Liam took a moment to appreciate the way she curled into his side, his hands itching to caress skin or hair or anything. He actually didn’t know how to move forward at that second. 

So poked a finger to her cheek, like how he used to bother his sisters awake. Friendly-like. Once. Twice. Three times. 

“Do you want to die today, Payne?” Jess mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Not particularly.” He chuckled. “You’re alive.”

She shifted against him, rubbing her nose against his bicep. “Barely. I should probably get home. Feels late.” Her eyes blinked open slowly, turning soft and fond when they met his. Butterflies swiftly entered his stomach from somewhere, and he hated it. Fucking butterflies.

He almost said, _no, stay, sleep here_ , but the words never came. His palms sweated, and he wiped them on his worn trackies, studying her as she rubbed her eyes one last time before pulling herself up. Jess gathered her things from the unused chair. There was a weighty, tense silence in the air around them --him, lost in his thoughts, herm quiet and sleepy-- and he walked Jess through the suite. 

He opened the front door. It took every ounce of willpower for Liam not to tug her back inside by the wrist. This was a dance he didn’t know the steps to. Jess turned to face him. 

“Thanks for humoring me tonight. Niall is great, by the way.”

Liam nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? What time d’ya get to Philly?” His hand gripped the knob, kept the door open. Just in case.

“Five.” She yawned again, tiny this time. “You’re great too, by the way, Li, even if your FIFA game can’t match mine.” 

And all of a sudden, with a rush of air, Jess closed the space between them, wrapped her arms around his torso, hugged him to her. His arms circled around her back, and he nosed into her hair for a moment, the smell of it so foreign yet familiar. It was almost too much at once, blindsiding him completely. He didn’t know if he could let go.

“Tomorrow,” Jess whispered into his ear. She pressed a small kiss to his cheek, and pulled away. She left him in the doorway, aching, the smell of her hair lingering around him.

+++

Jess trudged through the hotel lobby, feeling slightly proud of herself for not jumping on top of Liam the second she saw him.

She deserved an award for exhibiting willpower over lust.

She breezed through the revolving doors, nodding at the doorman.

The sky opened up torrentially two blocks to the subway. She didn’t have an umbrella. 

Jess saw it as a sign, and flipped off the sky.

+++

Liam stared at the bedroom ceiling. Watery streetlight filtered in from the street below; he didn’t bother to close his curtains. Rain pounded against his windows.

He sighed. 

So, him and Jess really _were_ just friends.  That was that. She didn’t ask to stay, and didn’t attempt anything beyond the peck on the cheek. He rubbed the spot where her lips met his skin.

That was fine. Totally fine. They’d hang out in Philadelphia, and continue their chummy, digital relationship.

A series of unexpected knocks on his front door echoed through the rooms. He hadn’t recalled asking for any room service, or extra pillows or anything before bed. He swung his legs over the side, stood up, and quickly ran through the room to the front door of the suite.

He opened it, and his jaw fell open for the second time that night. It was Jess, her fist in the air mid-knock, completely drenched, still holding her coat. 

“It’s raining,” she stated, stepping closer to him, first dropping the fist, then her coat on the floor. It landed with a soft, wed thud. He backed up. She kicked the door closed with a foot, boots squeaking against the floor. There was an edginess to her voice, like lightning might strike them at any moment. 

She removed her wet beanie, dropped it into a pile with the coat, then her soaking sweater. Liam was silent as her eyes swept over his torso, and he realized he was shirtless and in sweatpants. He flushed.

“How long since I left?” There was an air of apprehension.

He managed to find his voice. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. “Ten minutes or so.” 

“Thought so. Shit.” Jess scruffed her hands through her hair, shaking droplets into the air. “This is so stupid.” 

One blink. That was the length of time passed between Jess being three feet away, wet and shivering, to her pulling Liam closer by the nape of his neck. Another blink, and Jess crushed their lips together. His eyes widened in shock, then fluttered closed. He reciprocated hungrily, snaking a hand through her damp, tangled hair; the other found its way to her cheek, clutching for dear life. There wasn’t enough air all of a sudden, but it didn’t matter, because he breathed through her, breathed _her_.

Every feeling he had over the past few weeks compounded, folded over and over and over inside him, expanded in his chest, bursting through his fingers, his lips, his tongue. She was so much better than he remembered.

Jess pulled back slightly, breath washing over his cheek. Liam couldn’t help but whine at the loss, clinging desperately to the bittersweet taste of whiskey that lingered on her mouth, and the full softness of her lips.

“Fuck,” she whispered around a shaky exhale, eyes still closed. 

“Yes, please?” He rolled his hips against hers, dipping down to brush his lips quickly against her plush bottom lip. Her eyes shot open. 

“Oh, you’re the worst.” Despite her words, Jess mouth quirked up at the corners, tired eyes sparkling. She glanced around the suite. “Seriously though. Where the fuck is the bedroom?”

Liam’s knees almost buckled when she fit herself to him again, nipping at his collarbone. His mind was filled with _want_ and _Jess_ and _please please please._ He pulled her toward his room, shedding clothes as they went, making easy work of her boots, careful not to trip.

And later, as they both stared at the ceiling in Liam’s hotel bedroom, panting and feeling, well, _fucked_ , a laugh bubbled inside his chest. He relished in the feeling of her skin, and Liam felt like his heart had shattered into a million pieces, only to reform into something new, bright and wonderful.

+++

She didn’t expect to sleep with Liam that night, and nor did she expect it to happen more than once.

“Did you purposefully put on that clingy tanktop to try and get me to jump you?” Jess pushed herself up onto her knees, throwing him a suspicious eyebrow raise. 

Liam relaxed with his hands behind his head, humming at nothing in particular, his tattoos in plain view. Jess had a plan to map every inked spot with her mouth. “Maaaaybe, love.” 

Jess swung a pillow at his head, which Liam managed to narrowly avoid, and snatched it out of her hand with a quick yelp. He stuffed it underneath his own, fluffing it a little, and winked.

She huffed a little in frustration and tipped over sideways into the soft bed, the mattress bouncing underneath them. “You didn’t really need to show me your big muscley biceps to get me in your bed, Li.”

Liam shifted over onto his side, his face serious. “What happened to us being friends, Jessica?”

Jess sighed, and she shrugged. “I tried my hardest not to be attracted to you, Liam. Fuck, I don’t know. Now don’t look so fucking smug.” She grabbed another pillow, and successfully managed to whack him for being so… everything.

Liam gave a muffled laugh from underneath the pillow, then threw it on the other side of the bed. He reached out, and stroked a finger from her temple, down her cheek, to fit his fingers underneath her chin. A flush crept from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

“Come with us on the bus to Philadelphia. I don’t want to stop being around you, please. Please?” Liam cajoled, an earnest expression in his brown eyes. “Cancel your damn hotel room, and stay with me. And maybe Niall and I can figure out how beat you in FIFA.” 

Jess contemplated this in silence, and chewed on a thumbnail. All of this was trouble, but at that moment, she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She didn’t know. “Okay, okay. But, I have to go back to the apartment and grab my stuff. It’s like 3 AM right now. I think I’d have to take a cab at this hour.”

“Can I come?”

“Really?” 

“Jess, I’d love to.”

She hit him with another pillow.

They finally made it to her apartment at four AM, somehow avoiding the crowds in front of his hotel (Liam was the master of escaping hotels), where he hung around for ten minutes, checking out her bookshelf. She threw her necessities into a duffel bag, swiped her laptop from the coffee table, and splashed water on her face in the bathroom.

She shoved a big plastic tupperware into Liam’s hands, and told him to open it. He lifted a corner gingerly, peeking inside to find the cookies she’d somehow made time to make on Thursday night. “What are these?”

“Funfetti cookies. For like, all of you. Enjoy.”

Liam crowded her against the fridge, and they didn’t leave her apartment for another fifteen minutes.

+++

Philadelphia was a whirlwind of private kisses and touches, never outside where fans or the public could see: the lounge in the tour bus, in echoey, backstage hallways, his hotel bed. They shared one lengthy session in the VIP bathroom, after he played a round of football with Niall. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. Otherwise, Jess kept a comfortable distance.

She beat everyone at FIFA, with the exception of Louis, who smiled around a funfetti cookie, shrugging.

The thirty six hours moved in fast forward. Too fast. A breath, and they were laughing over beers with Harry after the show. Jess took a selfie with Harry --the both of them wearing exaggerated, eye-crinkling grins-- to send to her friend, Taylor. Another exhale, and Jess hovered over Liam, his chest expanding with every breath, feeling buoyant and drunk, as he fumbled with her bra. 

Another inhale, and it was Sunday morning, the sun glinting over the horizon. He was faced with her open dufflebag on his bed, as she picked clothes and sneakers off his hotel room floor. She had a bus to catch back to New York in two hours, and the One Direction crew was headed south to Washington DC in even less time than that.

He caught her wrist, and circled his fingers around it, feeling the bumps of the delicate bones underneath the skin. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. He liked this universe of hotel beds, meaningful glances, and late-night laughter.

“Hey,” is all he said.

“Hi.” She brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth.

“I rather like you.” He touched his forehead to hers, and started to count the freckles. He stopped at twenty. 

“I like you, too.”

“So, can I call you when I get to DC?”

Jess smiled wickedly at him, then cupped his cheek with her hand. “Call me every damn night.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm damn proud of this chapter, and where Jess and Liam are going. These two, am I right? I don't know if any of you are still reading, but if you are, I'm glad you're here to see where these two crazy kids end up. Please send me all your theories.
> 
> I'm also participating in the H/L winter fic exchange, which is super exciting. Hilariously enough, I've never even written a bit of slashfic in my long run of fandom, but there's a first for everything. 
> 
> I'm writing Chapter 5 this week, and my schedule's cleared up quite a bit -- so hopefully that'll be posted by Monday!
> 
>  **Songspirations of the chapter:**  
>  "Ache For You" by Ben Lee  
> Actually, every song on "Awake Is The New Sleep" by Ben Lee, because, dayum. 
> 
> I'm signing off for the evening. 
> 
> Yours in Bud Light Limes,  
> A
> 
> PS. You can still find Loose and I on tumblr [twooldfourthis](http://twooldfourthis.tumblr.com). Our askbox is open, so please use it! WE ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS ABOUT WRITING, BOOZE AND WHETHER NIALL IS GOD, ETC.


	5. cinco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is over a month late. Please enjoy. xx.

+++

Jess decided to come clean to Taylor the Monday after coming home from Philly, mostly to make sure that texting a selfie with Harry Styles, apropos of nothing, didn’t kill him.

He wasn’t dead, but Taylor almost choked on his salad. It was impressive, because it was chopped. 

 _Yes, I am still sleeping with Liam Payne. No, I have no fucking idea what’s going to happen. I am_ not _his girlfriend. No, please don’t tell the rest of our friends, I’ll figure out what’s happening there. Yes, Taylor, Harry Styles is really very nice, and no, I don’t know what cologne he wears. Shut up, Taylor._

Then she told the whole story to Marissa over coffee after their last spin class. She threw Jess one of her concerned _but-I’m-just-looking-out-for-you-looks_ which, frankly, was annoying as hell.

“How many people have you slept with since Rowan?” Marissa asked, tone careful. Great. Way to mention the ex, which made Jess automatically grit her teeth.

Jess did the math in her head, anyway. “Six.”

“And how many have you seen again?”

“One.”

“Not counting Liam.”

“Zero,” Jess admitted. 

Marissa paused to take a sip of her latte. “Do you actually like him?”

“Yes.” Jess realized she’d never said that out loud to anyone. 

“Okay, honey,” Marissa reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm, “be careful, okay? I know you’re on this journey to get over that asshole, and you gotta do you. But not only is this Liam guy normally in London, but he’s also on tour all the time with a million girls at his beck and call, willing to throw themselves at him, because he’s in fucking One Direction. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“I know, that’s why it’s perfect, right?” Jess offered, meeting Marissa’s eyes. “Not the girls, but the being on tour all the time, and the far away. He’s really fun. It doesn’t need to be serious. No chance of real pain.”

“Just be careful, Jess,” Marissa repeated with a resigned look. 

“Yes, mom,” Jess intoned, sticking her tongue out. 

 _Careful._ Jess wanted to flip Marissa off, even though, deep down, she knew Marissa was right. _Careful._

But it was already too late for careful. Jess had already jumped off a cliff, and she couldn’t change her mind in the middle of a free fall. Then, Jess realized her life was mirroring a Taylor Swift song.

Might as well go with being young and reckless. 

+++

The next month and a bit raced faster than Liam realized, with the end of the small US tour in the middle of November, a quick burst of album promotion, and all of a sudden, the London weather turned brutally cold and damp. Their Christmas holiday was right around the corner. 

It also meant Louis Tomlinson’s birthday, which spelled hangovers and regrettable phone pictures.

The weekend before Christmas, Louis threw a rager of a 24th birthday celebration at his Hertfordshire house like always. By the time Liam ambled through the front door, the party was in full swing and packed full of Louis’ guests. A DJ Liam didn’t recognize hovered over a laptop in the corner of the living room, rocking his head to the pulsing beat. A sizeable, tipsy crowd danced in the living room underneath a disco ball that Louis must have hung up that day. The rest mingled over the drinks and loads of finger food. Louis flitted amongst his friends and family like a bee, practically buzzing as he hugged everyone in his vicinity. 

Liam’s front pocket vibrated as he made his way through the crowd, and he didn’t have to guess who texted him. _YO TELL LOUIS I SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY._ Then, _Maybe get your ass to New York sometime in the next few months. :)_

He smiled. He always smiled thinking about Jess. If he was supposed to feel any guilt about the one-night stand turned into something more - he didn’t. He simply didn’t. What the _more_ was, he also didn’t know, but for the first time, it didn’t scare him. They were in this place between friends and _relationship_ , which he didn’t know could exist. Fucking and an easy camaraderie. 

Usually, he’d have figured this out four times over, labelled it, then wrapped it up in a box called “commitment”. Liam usually felt things so intensely -- Sophia and him said “I love you” within weeks, or was it days? -- and it was coupled with an instinct to declare his feelings publically, shout it out to the moon. Or Twitter. 

After Sophia, whom he’d given his heart and time so fully and completely, it was refreshing to be so non-committal. To say nothing to the world about it. Jess didn’t demand an explanation, like she was just as keen to have fun and keep it casual.

It felt like he’d known Jess for ages; she absolutely refused to give him an inch, pointed out his dumb jokes, made him laugh until he couldn’t breathe. He could go on. She was brilliant, sexy, and he probably didn’t deserve her. 

It was all different. And different was good. 

He was about to thumb out a reply, when Louis accosted him. He wrapped one arm around Liam’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Maaaaate, finally, you made it!” Louis was tipsy, and greeted Liam loud enough to be heard over the ruckus. 

“Happy birthday Lou, man.” Liam pulled him into a friendly hug. “Sick party.”

“Thanks, Liam.” Louis shrugged with a smirk, then clapped him on the shoulder.“Get a drink in the kitchen, yeah? Niall and Haz are around here somewhere with Pez and Zayn. Maybe out on the terrace? I’ll make my rounds and come back to you, ‘ventually.”

“Wicked, Lou.”

Louis turned to leave, then hesitated as he remembered something. “Sophia is here, Li.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t spoken to Sophia in at least three weeks, and hadn’t seen her in longer. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd over Louis head, wondering if he could spot the familiar brunette amongst them.

“Eleanor invited her, of course,” Louis explained in an undertone with one hand on his hip, the other resting on Liam’s shoulder. “You gonna be alright?”

“‘Course, Lou.” He didn’t know if he was or not, but it was Louis’ day anyway, and didn’t want him to feel responsible. “Soph and me are still friends, and all.”

Louis nodded, mouthed a soundless apology, and shoved a beer into Liam’s hand. “Great. It’s my birthday, so I command you to drink until you can’t feel feelings, all right?”

Liam forced a smile onto his face. It was going to be fine.

+++

The party was even more raucous an hour later, the music and noise louder in his tipsy ears.  Liam’s head buzzed pleasantly, his stomach full of vodka and beer and snacks. He also didn’t say no when Niall popped up with some sort of crazy shot that immediately tasted like an Irish hangover. 

He’d caught a glimpse of Sophia earlier. She hung in a corner, head tipped back in laughter with Eleanor and Lottie. He quickly turned a heel in the other direction, wondering how Louis’ enormous manse could suddenly feel so claustrophobic. He hoped Sophia hadn’t seen him act like a scared deer. 

As Niall, Stan and Louis bickered over footie, he excused himself for a quick cigarette on Louis’ terrace.

There was a damp chill in the air that contrasted with the warmth in his belly, and he tugged his leather jacket closer to him. A few people lingered on the terrace, snogging and whispering in shadows, but he found an unoccupied corner. 

He lit the fag, inhaled, and closed his eyes, letting the familiar taste calm him. Liam leaned against the stone banister, thoughts of Jess and Sophia flitting through his mind. 

Perrie and Zayn snuggled on a bench out in the backyard lawn, underneath a heavy throw blanket, looking at the clouded sky. Liam smiled as Perrie’s laugh rang out. He liked the way Zayn and Perrie fit, the way that they worked in spite of it all, the way Perrie cried during their wedding. 

Liam took another slow drag, and watched the smoke curl into the sky.

“Can I have a light then, Liam?” A familiar voice asked behind him, making Liam stand a little straighter with a sharp intake of breath. 

He turned his head, and there Sophia was, a cigarette between two slender fingers, her jacket buttoned to the throat, looking as gorgeous as the last time he saw her.

Liam managed a smile, feeling utterly unprepared.

She sidled up to him, their shoulders touching, and he answered with a wordless nod. He brought the lighter up to the cigarette now perched between her lips, flicked it on, and cupped the flame with a hand. The tip of her cigarette glowed bright orange on an inhale. She exhaled smoke out of the corner of her mouth.

“You’re definitely avoiding me,” Sophia stated out of nowhere, leaning on the balustrade.

“Am not!” Liam protested. He tapped some ash onto the ground.

“I’ve been here for two hours, mate, and you didn’t even come over and say hi.” Sophia nudged him with her free hand. “Lottie had to tell me you were here, for fuck’s sake.”

He huffed out a sigh, and scrubbed his hand over his eyes, then scratched his beard. “Okay, so maybe I was avoiding you, Soph. I’m sorry. Know s’not like me. But it’s a bit weird, innit?”

“To not be here together? Yeah, a bit. Especially after the last few years, I suppose.” She tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind an ear, and glanced at him.  “I was chatting with Niall about the tour, and it sounded like it was ace. The album is really quite good, Liam. Congrats.” 

“Thanks, Soph. That means a lot.” It did; many of the songs on the album were inspired by her. The boys all contributed a fair amount, but Liam had poured a lot of his relationship with Sophia (it falling apart, mostly) into _Yours_. 

They were silent for a minute, as they both stared out into the dark, smoking. Perrie and Zayn still huddled together on the bench, and now Zayn’s laugh floated through the air, warm and happy. The scent of Sophia’s perfume, so very different than Jess’ and now sadly foreign, met his nose, and it took him somewhere he couldn’t place. Somewhere between nostalgia and sadness.

“You look great, Li,” Sophia said, turning her head to smile at him. There was a time when all he wanted was to see that smile, and tried every damn play in the book to keep it on her face. There was a time where it felt like she was the still point in the mad, turning world of his life.

Not anymore. 

“You too, Soph. You always look good.” She did. He’d written so many songs about her just walking around in skinny jeans. In retrospect, it made him feel monumentally stupid.

“Niall also mentioned that you met someone in America. Is that true?” Sophia tread carefully over the words, smoke curling out of her mouth.

The question caught him off guard, and he took a deep drag of the cigarette, feeling her eyes on him. “Um, kind of. It’s a bit mad, really. It’s not extremely serious.”

“Over us quickly, huh?” Sophia chortled lightly, stubbing her cigarette on the banister, and placing it in one of many ashtrays Louis scattered across the patio. He choked on his next inhale. 

She elbowed him softly as his eyes watered. “I’m just joking, babe.”

“Give a bloke a break, love. I’m tired of over-thinking every single thing,” Liam shot back, finishing his cigarette, shaking his head at her with a slight chuckle.

She snorted slightly. “Sorry, Li. It’s just funny… and unlike you. It’s probably good to have a fling.” 

He nodded. There was a strange, slightly weighty silence between them for a few seconds, with the sound of the music and partygoers thumping through the glass door. Another high loud giggle bubbled from Perrie.

Liam cleared his throat. “Are you going back up to Wolverhampton for the holidays? I’ll be, of course.” Smooth subject change, Payne.

“The usual, Christmas at my mum and dad’s,” Sophia answered softly, tucking her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Are you going to Tom’s for New Year’s?

“Might be down at Andy’s. I haven’t decided yet.” Then, a crazy thought. “Maybe I’ll be in New York.”

“Ah, well.” Sophia shrugged, sighed and looked up at him. He’d been this close to her, inches apart, a million times, and it was so easy back then to pull her close and press a kiss into her hair. To bury his face in her neck, hearing her sigh. To whisper how much he loved her into the shell of her ear.

He didn’t have that right anymore. The distance between them was an ocean.

“It’s cold. I’m popping back inside,” she murmured, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. It caught him slightly off guard. “It was good to see you. Can you please not be a stranger, and ring me sometime? We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, Soph, we’re ace.” Liam brushed his fingers against her arm. “Happy Christmas if I don’t see you.”

“You too, Li.” She turned towards the door, then over her shoulder she said, “I hope it all works out with the American.”

Liam didn’t know what to say to that, and Sophia made her way back through the French doors. He was surprisingly okay about watching her walk away. About the whole thing, really, and how quickly she’d been relegated to a friend. Even after so many kisses and nights together. After he’d almost bought an engagement ring. 

And then, a mighty wave of loneliness hit him. He missed Jess all of a sudden, and felt alone on a terrace at Louis’ party, which was mad, because this _thing_ wasn’t supposed to be a thing. And how was he supposed to miss a non-thing? Especially since they talked twenty times a day, like. 

Liam sighed, and realized he wanted nothing more at that second then to be in her Harlem flat, touching the corner of her lips. 

He watched Zayn wrap the blanket around Perrie as they traipsed back through the grass, and it made Liam want to be with Jess even more.

Fuck, he thought. He was all out of sorts.

An idea flashed through his mind again. He fished for his mobile, and thumbed through his favorites (all the lads, Tom, Andy, Sophia) till he found Jess’s name. He pressed call, and as it rang, Perrie grinned at him, her blonde hair wild and curly. Zayn waved to him and mouthed “we’ll talk later”, as he pulled the door open for Perrie. 

_Hi, you’ve reached Jess Lopez. Leave a message after the beep, or don’t. You should probably just text me. Unless you’re mom, who doesn’t know how to text. Thanks!_

“Jess. You’re probably at that show you mentioned --Beach Slang or summat, right? Give me a call back, whenever. I have something to ask,” he said lamely into the receiver.

He ended the call, and spent another few minutes out on the terrace. He shoved his now-cold hands into the pockets of the worn leather jacket, not quite ready to go back into the fray, a million thoughts happening at once. 

Her ringtone calling out from his mobile, surprising him. He answered it quickly. 

“Jess.” Her name was a relief on his tongue. “You didn’t have to call me back till after the gig.”

“Shut up,” Jess answered, her voice sounding tinny and amused. The line buzzed. “Aren’t you at Louis’ birthday party? You should be shitfaced right now.” 

“Working on it.” 

“What? Sorry if it’s loud, everyone around me is talking and drunk and I’m trying to find an -- _excuse me, dude, sorry --_ a quiet corner. One sec.” There was a muffled sound as her mobile receiver brushed against something. “Ok, Payne, what’s up?”

Liam swallowed. “What are you doing for New Year’s Eve? ”

“Smallish party in Greenpoint at my friend Addison’s crazy apartment, I think. Why?”

“That message you sent about coming to New York. What if I came? I just… I’d really like to see you.” 

There was a silence on her end for a second, or a minute, he didn’t quite know how long. “Liam Payne, do you not have plans? I assume that you and the dudes would end up at like, David Beckham’s house or something.” 

He gave a small laugh. “I haven’t really decided on plans, J. Can I see you, please?” Okay, so he was lame as hell.

“You’re actually serious.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be alone, which sounds pathetic as I say that out loud,” he admitted. “I don’t want to be surrounded by… I-I ran into my ex here. And it was a bit strange.” 

“Sophia.” There was a hint of snark behind the way she said her name.

“On the nose.” He sighed, feeling foolish. 

“Let me get back to you when I’m not at the most crowded, hot punk show ever,” she answered after a lingering second. She giggled a little, then sighed. “Also, if I said yes, I’d have to wash my sheets, and that’s _so_ annoying.”

The levity made him laugh. “The horror. Look, I’m sorry. I feel mad.”

He wanted to speak the words hidden underneath the ones he actually said out loud. He realized they all added up to _I miss you._ He didn’t know if he was ready to say that. Or if she wanted to hear it. So he didn’t, even though it was the truth. It was a plain and simple fact that Jess had a left a very her-shaped hole in his life, a different one than Sophia. And London was a little grayer for it. 

“Liam, this isn’t a no,” Jess stated. “I’ll think about it. We’ll talk later, kay?”

“Yeah, Jess.” _I miss you._ “I’ll talk to you then.”

“Bye, Li. Go have fun at the party. Tell Niall he sucks.” And she hung up, leaving him feeling more lonely than he did five minutes previous. He pocketed his mobile, breathed deeply, and decided to take Louis’ advice to heart as he stepped back into the party.

_Drink until you can’t feel feelings._

Another hour passed in a blur. In between coaxing a very drunk Harry off a side table after he belted Happy Birthday to Louis at the top of his lungs, and barging in on Lottie and Zayn taking hits off a joint, there was a text message: _Okay. Being alone on New Year’s is_ sad _. Come over. Let me know when your flight is. (winky face emoji)_

The next morning, the feeling of cotton in his mouth, Liam booked a flight for late on the 29th of December to JFK, and texted his friends a lengthy apology. He forwarded the itinerary to Jess, then fell back asleep, absolutely knackered. 

+++

Christmas came and went. California was always a welcome respite from the relatively vicious cold of New York. It was a whirlwind of family gatherings, playing FIFA with her brother Malcolm, hugging her little cousins, and hastily wrapping presents in the den.

Liam and Jess kept in small contact. The timezones felt brutal between the UK and west coast, and she found herself a little sad for the lack of FaceTime or Skype. 

He’d actually mailed a package to her parent’s house, despite her protests _please don’t buy me anything, please, really._ It came with explicit instructions to not open it until Christmas Day. She unwrapped it carefully that morning in her childhood bedroom.

Amongst the tissue paper was a beautiful, all mahogany ukulele that’d she’d waxed on about a few weeks prior having tried it out at a local music shop. 

There was a single note attached: _J - I bet you’ll play this as well as you play FIFA. - L_

Feeling shocked, she tapped on her phone keyboard.

_\-- Liam James Payne -- you mic-flipping, crooning son of a bitch._

_\-- Take it you got the the present. happy xmas j !_

_\-- I’m kidding. This is awesome. Thank you. You didn’t have to. Makes my gift pale in comparison, really._

_\-- doubt it. can’t wait to see you!_

Jess fell backwards on her old bed, staring at the ceiling with the uke resting against her thighs, and she outright giggled.

Then, it was 10:45PM on the 29th, and Liam Payne, slightly disheveled from traveling, smoked a cigarette out of her fire escape window like it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled at Jess from across the small room, as she plucked out a Replacements song on her uke.

Later on, post-mindblowing orgasm, Liam caught her gazing up at the ceiling, lost in thought, as he peppered kisses across her brow. 

Liam and Jess _clicked_. She couldn’t deny it. Jess hadn’t clicked this well with Rowan; actually, she couldn’t remember the last time it happened so easily, so fast. It was simultaneously frightening and exhilarating to have the pieces fell naturally into place between them.

It made her slightly nervous. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam brushed his full lips right at the top of her cheekbone.

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“Hmm.” His mouth schooled itself into a flat line. 

“Sometimes, when you’re with me, your eyes go out of focus, like.” Liam said this calmly, deliberately. He touched her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “You’re a million miles away all of a sudden? I can’t tell if you’re… like, pushing something down, because I’m here. It’s only for a few seconds, though.”

She didn’t reply. 

“I could be imagining things,” he continued, a small rueful smile now playing at the edges of his mouth. “I don’t want to pry.” They stayed silent for a few seconds, and he lightly tapped a rhythm out with his thumb against her lip. Jess blinked at him, not knowing how to fully explain.

“Li, I- It’s not you. _You’re_ great.” Jess chewed on her bottom lip, trying to find the right words to explain. “I was kind of a sad sack of shit a lot last year, and I’m not particularly sad right now, with you? Just some things remind me of that time, the person that I was, and I have to swallow a few of those feelings to be okay.”

He bumped his nose to hers, and his facial hair swept across her cheek. Not unpleasant.  “It’s about a lad, though. I’m guessing.” 

She decided not to lie. “Astute, Payne.”

“If you do ever want to talk about it,” Liam offered, reaching down and slotting his fingers in between hers. He squeezed, briefly, and he let go before she had a chance to react. “I’m here, yeah? Gone through a fair bit of heartbreak myself. This doesn’t have to be all snogging and nakedness. Though it’s fun, mind.”  

His lips found that spot on her cheekbone again. 

“If I decide to, I’ll take you up on it. It’s… just a lot. Okay?” 

“Kay.” Gratefully, Liam didn’t push it any further, and she pulled him into a slow kiss, his lips soft against hers. 

Jess decided not to overthink it, and she fell asleep with Liam’s solid warmth against her back, the sound of his breathing in her ear.

+++

It was finally New Year’s Eve. Liam had only been in New York for two days, but he liked how easy it was to fit himself in Jess’ flat --no, _apartment._ There was a small pile of his clothes at the foot of the bed, his travel toothbrush sat next to hers in the bathroom, and his laptop balanced precariously at the edge of the coffee table. Jess didn’t seem to mind how Liam had made himself so at home, so quickly.

He didn’t know how it was so easy, either.

It was simple to ignore the world. Jess and Liam had a bit of a lie in, had sex, and grabbed bagels from a local bodega. Liam beat her at FIFA twice, which wasn’t a record, but he felt proud anyway. Jess made Liam almost cry with laughter as she played a reggae version of “You and I” on her ukulele. They watched a bunch of mindless telly, shagged again, and listened to a few of her favorite records. 

Like, it was a pretty good day so far in Liam’s opinion.

It was already way past midnight in the UK by the time Liam stepped out of the shower. He received a barrage of text messages from friends and family (From Niall: _HAPPY nEW YEAR, TWATS ! 2016 HEAR WE COOOoMEEEEEE ! ! LUvvvv yA baBES_ ).  He quickly called his mum, wished his family the best, and assured her that he was okay in New York and that he loved them.

He was light, happy and ready for anything to happen.

“So, here’s the thing. Don’t kill me.” Jess stopped Liam in the hallway. She locked the door with a flick of her wrist, then placed her hands on his shoulders. They were on the way to the party. “It’s a smallish party. Probably about twenty people. Not a big deal. But…I didn’t tell my friends… exactly who you are.” 

“What.” It wasn’t a question, really. 

“So, Taylor and Marissa know? I just--” Her head fell forward onto his chest, and she sucked in a long breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I really didn’t think this through. They know I’m bringing someone, but they don’t know it’s _you._ ” _Me, Liam Payne, of One Direction._ “Not that they’d care. But I didn’t really want it to be a big deal.” 

His arms instinctively wrapped around her narrow shoulders, pulling her fully to him. Two days, and he already needed her close, no gaps or space between them. 

“You’re kind of an idiot, you know that?” He whispered into ear, and curled his fingers through her wavy hair. Jess muffled laugh squeaked against his scarf.

“An idiot you like for some reason, Li. The same dumbass who now has to explain why Liam Payne is at a New Year’s Eve house party in Greenpoint.”

Liam wasn’t angry; in fact, he was just amused. “What is there to explain? We’re friends. No one’s gonna cause a fuss.” It’ll be okay,” he soothed, rubbing at the nape of her neck. 

“Say it again.” Jess looked up at him, all big eyes and cute makeup. 

“It’ll be okay,” Liam repeated. “You look absolutely brilliant, by the way.” 

Underneath her wool coat and scarf, Jess wore a gold sequined mini dress with a low cut back. It was the most dressed up Liam had ever seen Jess, but it was still effortless and cool. It took a monumental amount of effort keep his tongue from wagging out of his mouth.

“Thanks, Li.” Jess sounded more comfortable, and shot him a wide smile. “You look pretty great, too. Killer leather jacket.” 

He beamed.

Jess inhaled, chest expanding, then let out a long breath. Her face broke into a grin. “Let’s face the world, then,” Jess directed, and he followed in her stead, wondering where the night would take them.

+++

Liam had never taken the subway before, which Jess thought was ridiculous. Liam argued that he’d never been to the city outside of band business, and they were always shoved into yellow cabs or shuttled around in SUVs. She called him classy.

Additionally, Liam admitted to never visiting Brooklyn outside of the Barclays Center for the VMAs, and tried not to feel embarrassed as he swiped his new Metrocard at the turnstile. It took him a few tries.

“One day, you’ll be a _real_ New Yorker when you can do it in one swipe,” Jess teased, breezing through the turnstile, and stopping to wait for him. 

They idled on the platform, and around them everyone was either dressed up for parties, or wore sparkled crowns and crazy sunglasses decorated with “2016”, their hands full of noisemakers. There was a palpable, joyous buzz even among the crowd of strangers. No one seemed to recognize him. 

When they finally boarded the train, it was standing room only. It seemed like every person in Manhattan was making their way to parties in Times Square and beyond. Liam and Jess huddled together, sharing a grip on the same metal pole, silently smiling at each other. 

The subway took a hard brake at a stop, and the car lurched. Jess tipped into Liam, and steadied herself with a laugh with one hand against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and tucked her further into him.

“Careful, babe.” The endearment left Liam’s mouth without a thought and into the air. Her brows creased briefly, and he wondered if it was okay for her or too fast. Liam was used to calling her love --called every woman close to him that, really -- but they hadn’t used pet names, or like. Okay, maybe he was just overthinking it. 

“Thanks, Li,” she replied, gently, the crease disappearing and nudging her nose on his chin. The subway started up again with the conductor’s unintelligible announcements. She stayed pressed up against him with one hand tight around the subway pole, and the other against his chest.

Jess moved her hand from his chest, and reached down to graze her fingers against his palm. As the train swayed slightly, she slotted their fingers together.

Liam realized he’d never really properly held her hand until that moment, and something inside of him melted at its intimacy. Even though they talked every day, and shared the same bed at that moment, there were secrets tucked inside the corner of Jess’ mouth he wished he could coax out of their hiding places. 

He placed a small kiss at her temple. She didn’t pull away. They spent the rest of the ride to Brooklyn intertwined, swaying to the rhythm of the subway. 

+++

Jess was drunk.

No, _no,_ Jess was really tipsy and warm, bundled in her coat with a cup full of ice, and lost in the rhythm of the random pop song playing from Addison’s roof speakers. It was freezing and the city lights bounced off the clouds to make the sky gray. But they all decided to climb the stairs to the building’s roof to drink more and count down to midnight. Everyone’s laughs turned into misty clouds. Christmas lights strung across the roof were casting a cheery glow on everyone, including Liam, making small talk with Taylor and Marissa, showing pictures from the tour on his phone. A cigarette hung between his lips.

Liam was so cute, all like, _British_ and good lips and talent and, yeah. He also made a mean gin and tonic, of which she was on her… fourth. Or fifth?

Definitely fourth.

The introductions between Liam and her friends were only slightly awkward, with glimmers of recognition on only a few of their faces. The rest of the party seemed to not give a shit. Addy pulled her aside, plastic champagne flute in hand, as Liam excused himself to the bathroom. 

“Oh my god, an accent. And like, _hot._ Why does he look so familiar?” She was as bubbly as the champagne, and a party hat sat crookedly on her red curly hair.

“Probably because he’s in One Direction,” Jess answered dryly, picking up two party hats off one of the tables. “Don’t make a big deal of it, Addy, please?”

“Holy shit,” Addy exclaimed around a gulp of champagne. “Is he off limits?”

“You have a boyfriend, Addy, who’s like, over _there._ ” Jess gave her pointed look and placed a purple 2016 hat on her own head. She adjusted the elastic under her chin. “And yes.” 

“10-4, captain,” Addy said, and saluted with her glass. “Can’t blame me for looking. The hot British pop star, all yours. That’s probably good though, considering. Glad you showed up with a date.” 

“What do you mean?” Jess raised an eyebrow at Addy’s tone. 

“Did Marissa not tell you? Honey, Row showed up. With Lindsay.”

Marissa definitely didn’t tell her. Fuck.

“Fuck,” Jess said. Jess’s smile twisted into a grimace. It’d been almost a year since she saw him. And now Rowan was here, with his stupid new girlfriend. 

“Fuck,” Jess repeated. 

A little later, she’d pointed Rowan and his new girlfriend out to Liam as they pushed their way to Marissa and Taylor. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna okay?” Liam’s hand moved to the small of her back in a protective gesture that grounded her from flinging herself out the nearest large window. “I mean, you’ve never really told me much about him. Or anything about it all.”

“I’ll be fine.” Jess shrugged. She reached up and placed a party hat --this one green-- on Liam’s head.  “But, let’s get drunk, please.”

So, she was tipsy, yes, tipsy. She deserved to drink every strong drink. 

It was thirty minutes until midnight by her phone clock, and she’d spent the last two hours dancing, talking and laughing with Liam and her friends, carefully avoiding Rowan. Thankfully, when Addy said the party was “smallish,” she really meant that the loft and the roof were almost full to the brim of people Jess didn’t really know. People were starting to get messy. Couples were making out in corners, and spilling drinks. So, it was a little easier to avoid the musician ex-boyfriend that broke her heart into a million pieces.

God, gin made her so _melodramatic._

A touch to her shoulder brought her back. 

“Your drink’s lookin’ low, J. Want another?” Liam asked, tipsily, his grin wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes. The party hat on his head was skewed adorably to the side, and the top button of his shirt was undone. “M’getting some for Taylor too.” 

Jess nodded, smiling back, and watched Liam make his way through the door to the stairwell downstairs with their two cups. While Taylor and Marissa moved back to dance, Jess ambled to the edge of the roof, which was kind of tilted in her drunken vision. She gripped the railing. 

The Manhattan skyline looked so fucking beautiful she might cry. It was so twinkly and maybe she understood every song about New York in that instance.

All right, maybe she was drunker than she thought. 

Someone joined her at the railing. She glanced over.

It was Rowan.

She tried to shoot him the dirtiest look she could muster. Rowan, Rowan, Rowan. She gave him the once-over, and he was still the same: sandy tousled blonde hair, and round glasses that somehow mirrored his babyish cheeks. He basically looked like an affected Urban Outfitters employee, all ripped skinny jeans and guitar calloused fingers. 

He also looked a lot smaller than she remembered. 

“Jess,” Rowan started, his mouth a flat line. “Hi.”

“Hello. So _great_ to see you,” Jess answered, rolling her eyes, the gin clearly doing all the talking. It was easier to be angry with him after a few drinks. She stepped sideways to get some space between them. 

Rowan was unfazed. “How are you?”

Jess half-shrugged. “Good nowadays, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too.” He let out a small laugh around his sip of beer. “I’m engaged.”

Jess whipped her head around to look at him, puzzled. Out of all the things in the world to say, Rowan being engaged was not a thing she would have bet on him to say. Like at all.

He said this like it was the most natural fact in the world, like _the sky is blue, did you know?_ Which was so infuriating. It was the same way he had said _Jess, I don’t believe this is working. And I_ don’t _think I love you. It’s not you. I promise._

Jess paused. “Why even tell me this, Rowan?”

“Jess, I just wanted you to hear it from me, as opposed to any one of your gossipy friends.” 

Jess let out a bitter laugh. _Where did he get off?_ “I liked it better when we were just ignoring each other. Like the last eighteen months.”  As much as she tried, she could never figure him out or what he wanted. 

“Are you with that kid from One Direction?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “And I don’t think that’s any of your business, anyway, Rowan.”

Rowan sighed, and furrowed his brow. He worried with the label on his bottle of beer. “Look, I’m sorry about everything.”

She shot him an incredulous look.

“Screw your apology, Rowan,” Jess spat, shaking her head. It all spilled over the dam weakened by her drunken state. “Seriously. You ignored my phone calls and texts for weeks, and so I stopped trying. You didn’t want to talk. You _never_ wanted to talk the eight months we were together, then you left like a coward. And two months later you were dating someone else. And I never heard it from you! I loved you so much, and _you left._ ”

_Loved._

She blinked. Loved. Past tense. 

Rowan blanched at her rebuff. He visibly swallowed. 

“Please leave me alone forever,” Jess scoffed. “This is way too awkward.”

Rowan tore the label completely off his now-empty bottle. “Sure.”

She didn’t watch him walk away. 

The sadness and fear that used to occupy too big of a space in her heart was gone, now replaced with equal parts disappointment and relief. 

After a minute, her head swam from the conversation, the drink, _everything._ The open air of the roof was even too stifling. She shuffled toward the stairwell, catching Taylor’s concerned look. She brushed by Liam, holding three drinks precariously in his big hands, making his way in the opposite direction.

Jess didn’t have to say anything, and Liam set the drinks down and followed her out of the loft. 

+++

“Jess, love, wait up.” Liam reached out and clasped her by the elbow, pulling her back around gently. “Hey now.” Jess wobbled slightly, from the drink or whatever caused her to run out of the party a minute ago, and she fit her face into the crook of his neck. Her breath escaped, warm and shaky, over his skin.

Liam only just noticed he’d forgotten his coat back up at the party --he was just in a hoodie, having thrown his coat on the couch as he made their drinks-- and it was bloody cold out. The air was sharp in his lungs, the whisper of snow in the sky. He shivered, his breath a cloud between them, and instinctively snaked his hands underneath her coat.

“Oh, Li -take my scarf. I’m sorry,” she said, worry etched on the edges of her voice. She undid the knot of navy wool from around her neck, and wrapped it around Liam’s. Tucking the ends in, she patted it against his collarbone. A small smile rose on her lips. 

“I need a walk around the block to clear my head,” Jess said, softly. “Come with?”

Liam replied with a small nod.

The Brooklyn street was strangely quiet save for the muffled noise of other parties through their windows, like the threat of snow dampened the usual noise of the city. They walked a couple of paces in a stretched silence, brittle like the cold, and ready to snap at any second. The orangey street lights cast pools of lights on the sidewalk.

Liam shoved his almost-numb hands into the pockets of the hoodie for warmth, and his knuckles brushed against a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He fumbled with the pack for a few seconds, and managed to light one despite his stiff fingers. It warmed him a little. 

“Are you alright, love?” He exhaled upwards, and the smoke hung densely in the wintry air. 

She bumped shoulders with him. “Everyone has resolutions for the new year, right? Every New Year’s Eve, it’s like, lose weight. Be a better friend. Appreciate life more.” Jess swiped Liam’s cigarette from his mouth, took a drag, exhaled. “But no one really succeeds.”

Jess paused for a second, and nudged her head back in the direction of Addy’s building. She continued her meandering walk.

“I had one last year,” she continued, passing him back the cigarette. “It was to stop being in love with Rowan. I stood on that same exact roof, surrounded by the same friends, holding sparklers. Row wasn’t there --he’d gone to another party? I don’t know. I promised myself that if it was so easy for him to get over me, to never have loved me--” She trailed off, voice wavering a bit. “The only thing I strove to do this year is get over Rowan.” 

Snowflakes started to fall, lightly coating the sidewalk like powdered sugar. Jess turned to Liam with a curious expression. “He actually came up to me, and apologized for everything. And I told him to fuck off. Like I built it up in my head that it would be this big thing. God, it felt so good. It’s fucking ridiculous. I didn’t think it would be this way.” 

“What do you mean?” The next few seconds were an actual eternity, so he took a drag of the cigarette. There was a fear he’d swallowed earlier in the evening when Jess’ eyes widened at first spotting Rowan from across the room. A fear that she might just get up and leave Liam. 

Not that Jess’ was Liam’s. Not really. 

“I’m over Rowan. Completely. I used to be so sad, dude.” She paused, eyes turning bright. She covered her eyes with one hand, sighing. “I was in love with someone with a shitty, pretentious name like _Rowan Anderson._ ” 

Relief washed over him in waves, and he started to chuckle. “Oh.”

“It’s probably your fault, Liam,” Jess said, grinning and cupping his cheek, her hand surprisingly warm. “So, thanks for that. For finally helping me move on. I’m still angry for the time I wasted. The energy of being in love is so stifling and exhausting. But I’m not… I’m not in love with him anymore, and I feel clean. New. Fresh.”

Liam didn’t say anything back, but he understood that sentiment more than Jess knew. 

Jess reached out her hand for his, and while she twined their fingers together, Liam shivered. He didn’t know if it was from the cold creeping under his hoodie sleeves or the way she held his hand. Maybe both. 

They reached the corner of the block and stopped. Liam stubbed the half-done cigarette against the pole of a stop light, and Jess pulled him closer by both his hands. The snow dusted around them, and landed in her hair and long eyelashes. They stood there for a moment, breathing the same misty air.

“I can’t believe you dated someone named for a tree, to be honest, J,” he put in, touching a thumb to her cheek. 

“God, I know. It should have been a huge red flag,” Jess replied, soberly, sticking out her tongue. She pulled Liam down by the nape of his neck, and kissed him, her lips tasting of snow. The kiss was different than others they’d shared; less frantic and a prequel to sex. 

It felt like a promise. He didn’t feel quite so cold anymore, even though another shiver shook down his neck to the bottom of his spine. Jess pulled back briefly, then back in for a quick brush of their lips.

“It’s almost midnight. Let’s go back on the roof, and say goodbye to 2015,” she whispered, eyes still closed, snowflakes still falling onto her eyelashes. 

Liam didn’t object, and the snow crunched underneath the soles of their shoes as they hurried back.

+++

At midnight, both twirling noisemakers on the roof of a loft apartment in Brooklyn, Liam kissed Jess in a way that made her feel dizzy and hectic, the taste of limes sharp in his mouth. She laughed against his lips, and tugged him closer, not caring who saw. When they broke apart, she giggled again, watching her breath escape into the air.

Marissa pulled her into a drunken hug, then there were more hugs from Taylor, Addy and more friends and they all yelled Happy New Year at the sky. 

Liam whispered something in her ear as everyone around them butchered, off-key versions of Auld Lang Syne. She contemplated it for a brief second, then nodded, smiling.

He attempted a quick selfie of all of them, trying to get everyone them into the picture. At the last second, Jess covered her eyes with both hands, mouth open in a grin. 

Then, Taylor pulled her to dance to a Jay-Z song and the rest of the evening was a whirlwind. She only half-remembered Addy and Liam yelling to “Started from the Bottom” in between sips of a bottle of cheap champagne at around 2 AM. She barely recalled getting back to Harlem in the back of a yellow cab at 4AM, Liam tucked into her side, half-asleep.

The next morning, Liam uploaded the picture to his Instagram with the caption _NYC NYE 2016! bit hungover aha !_

Besides her covered face, Liam’s mouth was slightly open like a model, looking drunk, and Taylor’s head was on Liam’s shoulder, eyes squinted shut behind his glasses. Next to Jess, Marissa pulled a cross eyed face, puffing out her cheeks, and Addy was in the background, confused. They were all lit in yellows, reds and greens from the Christmas lights, and the crowd behind them was a blur.

It was perfect.

+++

It was two days later and Liam didn’t want to leave. 

But he had to get to home for tour rehearsal and so many other things.

There was a little bit of speculation about Jess and her friends in his Instagram comments.  He was glad that she decided to hide her face at the last minute, but it added fuel to the small fire happening online.

_Who were these people hanging with Liam? Why was Liam in New York? Who’s the girl covering up her face?_

The fans never failed to make him laugh.

He was taking his sweet time to pack the rest of his stuff, kneeling in the middle of the living room, folding his clothes haphazardly. Sometimes he wished magic was real, like in Harry Potter, so he could flick a wand and everything he needed would zoom into his luggage. He’d probably recover a bunch of random shit he’d left all over the world that way. Like laptop chargers. He always forgot those.

From behind him, Jess cleared her throat, and sat cross legged next to him. One of his favorite hoodies hung slightly baggy on her frame. It was an old one, navy with a hole worn through one of the sleeves for his thumb. He didn’t mind leaving it.

“I wanted to give you something,” she started. “I know you’re like, all over the place the next couple of months with the tour and everything. But if you’re ever in New York, I don’t know… and the hotel’s too lonely, or something.” 

She took his hand, and placed a key in his open palm. He didn’t know what to say. “Really?”

“Yeah. Just don’t give it to Niall or like, Christ, Harry,” Jess added with a small shrug. 

He responded with an awestruck thank you, and she pecked his cheek fondly. “You’re welcome anytime."

She left him to his packing.

As a Christmas gift, Jess gave Liam a mix on a tiny USB drive she decorated with stickers, in addition to an Iron Man action figure and a gift card to KFC ( _“I actually have no idea if this works in the UK?”_ her card had read.) During his flight back to Heathrow, he decided to listen to it. Liam closed his eyes, lowered the back of his seat, and pressed play.

 _Seasons change before me._  
 _Before me there must’ve been someone else,  
_ _Oh yes._

He put the playlist on repeat, and didn’t stop. Not when the New York skyline disappeared from view from the aeroplane window. Not when they landed back in London. Okay, briefly, at customs. Not as he waited for his bag at the carousel, and not when Paddy picked him up at Arrivals. 

 _I’ll wait, for always,_  
 _I love you in the fall,_  
 _I love you forever.  
_ _Oh_

He unlocked the door to his flat, and there was a message from Jess on his mobile: _I miss you already._

Even if this thing between him and Jess crashed and burned in a fiery ball of doom, he had a perfect New Year’s Eve holiday committed to memory.

And he had a key. That had to be something.

He replied: _I miss you too x_

 _Love you in the fall  
_ _I never forget you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like, the past month has been kind of nuts. I went to Miami for the last show in the WWA tour with my bae Hanna. One Direction has been fucking relentless with surprises (as I type this, I'm listening to "Ready to Run" on repeat, like I did with "Fireproof"). Taylor Swift totally shocked me with 1989! How could I cope, honestly? By having a serious case of writer's block for the past month, apparently. I'm sorry.
> 
> I'd like to thank [Loose](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1885575/chapters/4062987) for her amazing beta abilities and for helping me push through this tough chapter. And of course, Hanna for being the best support a girl can ask for. 
> 
> So -- what do you think? Can Liam and Jess keep this casual? Was Jess a total asshole to Rowan? What do you think about Jess giving him a key? Is Liam way in over his head?!?! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Or criticisms. Or, whatever. I also like gifs. 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted eventually. I promise it won't be a month from now.
> 
>  **Songspirations for this chapter:**  
>  "Welcome to New York" - Taylor Swift  
> "Love You In The Fall" - Paul Westerberg  
> "American Boy" - Estelle ft. Kanye West
> 
> We never go out of style,  
> A


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